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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24017698">Make Me Hurt, Make Me Bleed</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/residentevilxisuma/pseuds/residentevilxisuma'>residentevilxisuma</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hermitcraft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Disordered Eating, Forced Institutionalization, Gen, Hermitcraft season 6, Impermanent Character Death, Long Term Isolation, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Redstoner AU, Respawn Mechanics (and the abuse thereof), Self-Harm, Suicidal Ideation, TRSNS AU, Torture, reaper au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:20:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>43,926</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24017698</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/residentevilxisuma/pseuds/residentevilxisuma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The story starts the same. Mumbo disappears. He builds redstone contraptions. He builds redstone traps. But this time he's missing for far longer. This time he gets bored of his redstone machines. He knows so well how redstone works. He thinks it's time he learns something new. When Grian and Iskall finally build a portal to the red sun's world, they aren't the first ones to go through. Evil X volunteers to go in their place. Unfortunately for Evil X, Mumbo finds him before he finds Mumbo. </p><p>The Architechs aren't the only ones who leave the red sun's world with new trauma. This time Evil X, immortal reaper, Mumbo's first test subject, comes home with trauma too. The hermits want to help Evil X the same as they would help their friends, but years of mistrust make Evil X reluctant to open up.</p><p>Like the old saying goes, it'll get worse before it gets better.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>173</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>245</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Under a Blood Red Sun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/18122372">The Red Sun Never Sets</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThaneZain/pseuds/ThaneZain">ThaneZain</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>While it's not required that you be familiar with The Red Sun Never Sets by ThaneZain or my Reaper AU to understand this story, I do recommend it to help contextualize some of the narrative choices made. Please heed the warnings at the beginning of each chapter. They go in roughly order of appearance, and if for any reason you'd like to know more specifically where a certain warning occurs or what happens, feel free to leave a comment and I can get back to you with more details. If this sort of content is not your cup of tea I would urge you to click the back button and move on with your day. </p><p>Chapter Warnings:<br/>restraints, torture/nonconsensual surgery, graphic descriptions of gore, neck trauma, eye trauma, starvation, self-harm, panic attacks.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He’s strapped down to a quartz table. Leads bind his wrists and feet, too strong for him to break he decides after a few test pulls. He can hear Mumbo behind him, collecting some items for whatever it is he plans on doing with Evil X. He hears a sound like metal scraping across metal over the ticking of redstone somewhere deeper in the structure and can’t help the nervous flutter in his chest. Mumbo begins to hum cheerily and the anticipation gets worse.<br/>
<br/>
“We’re going to have fun, you and I,” Mumbo says as he approaches the table, a tray of surgical equipment in hand. Evil X’s heart thumps against his rib cage, as if it knows what’s about to happen and is trying its damnedest to escape. The little bastard would leave him here by himself to endure whatever it is Mumbo has planned for him.<br/>
<br/>
“I doubt it,” Evil X spits back. He tugs at the bindings again, but they give no more than they had earlier.<br/>
<br/>
Mumbo clucks his tongue. “Well I’m going to have fun, at least.”<br/>
<br/>
Mumbo carefully picks a scalpel from his selection of tools and sets the tray aside. He hums again before making a decision, leaning over Evil X and pressing the blade to the skin under his collarbone. Evil X grits his teeth as the blade cuts his flesh, squeezes his eyes shut against the pain. He has no idea if Mumbo gets some kind of kick out of his victim’s reactions, but he refuses to give him the satisfaction of one anyway.<br/>
<br/>
The thought nearly goes out the window as Mumbo begins to cut deeper into the muscle and nerves hidden under his collarbone. He inhales sharply, barely refraining from moaning in pain as he lets the breath back out slowly.<br/>
<br/>
If Grian and Iskall really were planning on coming, he prayed they’d do it soon.</p><p> </p><p>__</p><p> </p><p>Mumbo had long since moved on from Evil X’s collarbone when he notices that the original incision was entirely healed. He’s positively thrilled by the discovery. His plaything will last so much longer this way, Evil X thinks bitterly.<br/>
<br/>
His calf has been opened up now, and it takes all his concentration not to shift his leg at all, lest he make even more of a mess. It’ll heal all the same as his collarbone had, but there was no reason to make it take longer. That was just more energy down the drain.<br/>
<br/>
He had yet to reward Mumbo’s efforts with anything beyond a clenched jaw and tense breathing. What a strange thing to feel proud of.<br/>
<br/>
How long had he been strapped to this table now? It had to have been hours at least. It felt even longer than that. Mumbo was thorough in his exploration of Evil X’s anatomy. The only consistent way of marking the time was the redstone ticks. His awareness of it is interrupted all too often by pain.<br/>
<br/>
Evil X braces himself as Mumbo presses the scalpel back into the underside of his collarbone, checking to see how much of his subject had healed while he wasn’t paying attention.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>__</p><p> </p><p>It’s his forearm that Mumbo chooses to examine next when he finishes with Evil X’s collarbone a second time. His calf isn’t entirely healed yet, and when Mumbo hits a particularly sensitive nerve while cutting into his arm he kicks his leg involuntarily, tearing the healing flesh back open.<br/>
<br/>
He groans, the most sound he’s made so far, and silently curses himself for his slip. He catches a glance at Mumbo’s face and sees a small smirk upon his lips.<br/>
<br/>
Mumbo pins the flesh and muscle of Evil X’s forearm aside as he pokes around in the tendons there, giving them a few experimental plucks and watching the way his fingers move of their own accord. Evil X can’t help but imagine the man playing guitar on his arm, and a few hummed notes of a song escape him.<br/>
<br/>
Mumbo looks up from his work with a shocked smile. “See? I told you we’d have fun.”<br/>
<br/>
Evil X bares his teeth at the man. </p><p> </p><p>__</p><p> </p><p>Evil X is exhausted. His leg is finally healed and his arm is in the process. Mumbo is back at his collarbone again, as if the first two times weren’t enough for him. Somehow he always manages to come back to it when the pain from last time has entirely faded. The scalpel being pulled across his flesh never feels any more dull.<br/>
<br/>
Evil X lets his head lull back and closes his eyes, trying to imagine he’s back in the over world. That he never came here in the first place. Goddamn his sentimentality. He barely knew Grian and Iskall, but he’d offered no hesitation when he volunteered to come here on their behalf. Some part of him had been afraid of what they might find here, despite the fact that he had no patch notes foretelling their death.<br/>
<br/>
<em> Then again, </em> he thinks as Mumbo hits a nerve that causes his shoulder to jerk. <em> if I hadn’t then they would be the ones here instead of me. </em> <em><br/>
</em><br/>
He doubts they would have fared as well as he is.<br/>
<br/>
How long has it been, now? There’s no way to tell in here—the distant, ticking redstone is little more than a mockery of a timepiece. Something tells him that Mumbo, whatever it is he’s become, could go for days without rest. Perhaps even weeks. A weak sound forms in his throat at the thought.<br/>
<br/>
Mumbo returns it with a satisfied hum.<br/>
<br/>
“Fuck you,” Evil X croaks, and this time Mumbo responds with another deep incision into the muscles under his collarbone.</p><p> </p><p>__</p><p> </p><p>Evil X’s chest is being compressed under Mumbo’s elbow as he cuts into his throat. Between the pressure directly on his lungs and his mutilated trachea, he struggles to get any air. His fingers and toes begin to tingle numbly with rising panic.<br/>
<br/>
He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die, so this isn’t going to kill him.<br/>
<br/>
He still feels like he’s suffocating. He feels his heart growing weaker in his chest. He feels the blood from his carotid artery sticking to his neck and hair, pooling under his body on the table. He feels light headed. He feels his vision blacken. He feels something patting his cheek and his last thought before he blacks out completely is how much he would love to snap Mumbo’s fingers off with his teeth. He doesn’t have the strength to follow through.</p><p> </p><p>__</p><p> </p><p>He wakes up with a gasp. His vision is still fuzzy around the edges and his head feels full of cotton but he’s awake. He sucks in a deep breath, filling his lungs full of the air they were denied who knows how long ago now. He pulls at his bindings again, but finds he’s barely able to resist them in his weakened state.<br/>
<br/>
“How on earth…” He hears from behind him. Before he can fully process the words and the voice that says them, Mumbo appears above him. Evil X blinks at him slowly, wishing the man would stand still so he could properly glare at him. Without warning Mumbo’s fingers are under his chin, lifting his head back so he can examine his neck. Evil X’s vision swims at the sudden motion and he feels like he’s going to be sick.<br/>
<br/>
“You,” Mumbo says, running his fingers delicately along Evil X’s throat and making him flinch. “should be dead.”<br/>
<br/>
“Not… that… easy…” Evil X wheezes.<br/>
<br/>
“In that case,” Mumbo says, releasing his hold of Evil X’s chin and smiling a little too widely. “let the fun continue.”</p><p> </p><p>__</p><p> </p><p>Mumbo takes his scalpel to Evil X’s foot and then his pelvis. There’s absolutely no rhyme or reason behind where he chooses to cut open. It’s driving Evil X a little mad wondering what he should expect next.<br/>
<br/>
Mumbo has stepped away momentarily, complaining about his blade dulling, and Evil X takes the peace it offers him to try and calm his mind. His limbs are shaking. He wills them to stop. They don’t obey.<br/>
<br/>
His mind drifts back to the time. He hadn’t exactly been able to keep track before he’d fainted, but with no idea how long he was unconscious he found himself even more disoriented. Hours? Days? Weeks? Was anyone coming for them?<br/>
<br/>
Evil X’s guts twist as he thinks no. Not for him. Mumbo, maybe. But not for him. A pained laugh bubbles up in his chest.<br/>
<br/>
He hears the smile in Mumbo’s voice when he says, “Now that’s the spirit!”</p><p> </p><p>__</p><p> </p><p>He can’t see. Mumbo’s plucked his eyes from his head and now he can’t see. He focuses on breathing, because thinking of anything else makes bile rise in the back of his throat.<br/>
<br/>
His hands are shaking even more than they had before. Or perhaps without his sight to dull his senses he can feel every twitch and tremble of his fingertips. The redstone sounds louder now too. Or maybe he’s imagining it. He can’t really be sure.</p><p>He doesn’t know where Mumbo is. He doesn’t know if he’s even in the room still. His breath hitches in his throat.<br/>
<br/>
“Mumbo…” he calls weakly. “Give them back…”<br/>
<br/>
He hears something from behind him at Mumbo’s workstation, but the man doesn’t respond to him.<br/>
<br/>
“Mumbo…” he growls, or tries to, but it sounds more like a whine.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m curious,” Mumbo says at last. “Why are you blind in one eye? If you can heal, why hasn’t that particular injury healed as well?”<br/>
<br/>
Evil X can hear footsteps approaching, stopping just to the left of his head. He imagines Mumbo’s smug face watching him lay there, a bloody, trembling mess and he growls, musters up the strength to spit in his direction.<br/>
<br/>
There’s no sound save for the two men’s breathing. Evil X’s heart pounds in his chest. Then there’s a hand grasping him by the jaw and he flinches, tries to pull away, growling and gnashing his teeth like a caged animal, but Mumbo digs his fingers into his flesh until he can’t move.<br/>
<br/>
“Answer my question and I might let you have them back,” he says, his tone calm despite the iron grip he has on Evil X’s face.<br/>
<br/>
“…It happened before…” Evil X says, and Mumbo squeezes a little bit harder, prompting him to continue. “ <em> It happened before I became like this… </em> ”<br/>
<br/>
“Before you could heal?” Mumbo asks.<br/>
<br/>
Evil X tries to nod, but Mumbo’s grip is too tight. “Yes…”<br/>
<br/>
Mumbo finally releases his hold and Evil X pulls away so hard he slams his head against the table, dizzying himself.<br/>
<br/>
Before he’s had even a moment to recover, Mumbo’s hands are on his face again, pulling the skin around his eye socket taut and pressing something into it. Evil X screams.</p><p> </p><p>__</p><p> </p><p>How long has it been? Days? Weeks? Months?<br/>
<br/>
Mumbo presses the scalpel to Evil X’s collarbone. Evil X sucks in a shuddering breath. The redstone ticks.</p><p> </p><p>__</p><p> </p><p>He hears a voice coming from somewhere else is Mumbo’s lab. Mumbo pauses in the middle of examining his entrails. The voice comes again. Dully, Evil X thinks the accent might be Iskall’s. Mumbo stuffs Evil X’s large intestine back into his torso with no ceremony and stands up.<br/>
<br/>
“Looks like we have a guest,” He says cheerily. He pats Evil X’s cheek, smearing his face with blood. Evil X barely flinches. Instead, he lets his eyes flutter shut. Finally, a moment of peace.<br/>
<br/>
Distantly, he hears Mumbo leave the room. Distantly, he hears shouting. Later, it turns to screaming.</p><p> </p><p>__</p><p> </p><p>Evil X is certain that Iskall must be dead, because it’s been silent for a long time now. Mumbo hasn’t come back. The ticking redstone is his only companion. His eyes drift to a table in the corner where his helmet sits, and he wonders if he put it on, would a patch note be waiting for him there?</p><p> </p><p>__</p><p> </p><p>Grian’s here. Evil X wishes he wasn’t.</p><p> </p><p>__</p><p> </p><p>Mumbo still hasn’t come back. Did he forget about him? Evil X doesn’t know whether he would prefer that or not.</p><p> </p><p>__</p><p> </p><p>With nothing else to focus on, he realizes how hungry he is. His stomach growls loudly and if he could double over in pain, he would. He squirms in his bindings, trying to find any position that would grant him some kind of relief. None of them do.</p><p> </p><p>__</p><p> </p><p>He pulls weakly against his restraints, despite knowing he won’t escape. He pulls, and pulls, and pulls, until he feels warm blood dripping down his wrists. He keeps pulling.</p><p> </p><p>__</p><p> </p><p>The redstone ticks and ticks and ticks. </p><p> </p><p>__</p><p> </p><p>He fell asleep at some point, which he realizes when he awakens to voices in the room. He thinks he should know them, but his mind is too foggy to pull up the memories of who they belong to. There’s a hand touching his and he flinches, tries to yank away from it, but he only gets so far in his restraints. The hand on his is gentle. It pats him until he’s calmed down enough for the person the hand belongs to to undo the lead tying his wrist.<br/>
<br/>
Something in Evil X’s mind snaps the second his hand is freed, and with a growl he takes a swing at whoever it is that’s responsible. His fist connects with the side of their head, and he feels the frame of their glasses breaking under his knuckles. He doesn’t spare the person another thought as he reaches over to claw at the lead binding his other wrist. He’s shaking. Someone says his name, puts their hands on his shoulders. He whines low in his throat, blood rushing in his ears. He’s dizzy, so dizzy. He can’t remember the last time he was able to sit up. His other wrist is freed, but he doesn’t know by who. His ankles are untied too.<br/>
<br/>
He leaps off the table, intent to make a break for freedom, but his legs don’t hold his weight. He falls to his knees with a muffled sob. He can’t stop shaking. There’s a hand on his shoulder again and he shouts at them, swatting them away. He scoots away from them until his back hits a wall. He’s cornered. His breath comes in shuddered gasps as he watches the people in the room watching him.<br/>
<br/>
“Someone get Xisuma,” he hears one of them say, and his eyes dart to the speaker, sees the one whose glasses he broke. It’s Joe, he realizes distantly. Evil X makes no move to apologize or acknowledge him. There are no thoughts in his head except for how desperately he wishes they would all leave. They don’t, but they don’t get any closer either, and that’s good enough for him.<br/>
<br/>
He’s just starting to get his breathing under control when Xisuma enters the room. Evil X feels his hands trembling even harder at the sight.<br/>
<br/>
“Xi-Xis-suma…” he says through chattering teeth. Xisuma is by his side in an instant, kneeling next to him with a hand on his shoulder. Evil X doesn’t pull away from him. His breathing starts to pick up again as he searches Xisuma’s eyes for any ill intent. He sees only concern.</p><p><br/>
He wraps his arms around Xisuma, pulls him into a tight embrace, digging his fingers into his back like he’s afraid the other man might vanish into thin air. There’s a loud keening sound and it takes a moment for Evil X to realize it’s coming from himself.<br/>
<br/>
“Can you guys get the other two…?” Xisuma asks the room, craning his neck around to look at the other occupants. Evil X pays him no mind, just continues to cling desperately to him, willing himself to calm down.<br/>
<br/>
The others filter out of the room until the two Xisumas are all that’s left. Evil X is still trembling, shaking like a leaf. Xisuma puts a comforting hand to his back. It takes everything Evil X has not to flinch at the touch.<br/>
<br/>
“I d-didn’t…” he gasps for air that his spasming lungs can’t seem to hold onto. “didn’t,” Gasp. “th-think,” Gasp. “y-you’d c-come,” Gasp. “for–for me.”<br/>
<br/>
“‘Course I came for you,” Xisuma says calmly, rubbing circles into his back. “‘Course I did.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Making Something Out Of Nothing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The hermits return to the overworld. Iskall asks some difficult questions.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter Warnings:<br/>panic attacks, suicidal ideation.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The trip back to the over world is fuzzy. He remembers Xisuma getting him to his feet, taking most of his weight on when Evil X was unable to carry much of it himself. He remembers flying, fingers weakly holding onto Xisuma, blinking his eyes against the harsh light of the red sun. He remembers the smell of the salty, ocean air in his nose, a welcome change from the putrid, coppery air he’d grown used to in the lab.<br/>
<br/>
He watches the waves lap at the shore as he sits with his knees drawn up to his chest, brushing his fingers through the grass. Someone’s suit jacket lays over his shoulders to cover him as the hermits deliberate what to do next. He isn’t sure if it’s Mumbo’s or Python’s. He shudders, and hopes for the latter. He’s been forgotten for now, and he finds that for once he wishes he hadn’t faded to the back of everyone’s minds.<br/>
<br/>
“He obviously needs our help, and I think we should give it to him,” Joe says, and Evil X’s shoulders tense. His fingers curl into a clump of grass, tearing the blades out by the roots. “How many of us have had Mumbo help us with redstone? Come on, it’s not like he’s a completely different person.”<br/>
<br/>
Evil X snorts, opening his hand and letting the grass clump scatter to the wind. He feels everyone’s eyes on the back of his head and does his best to ignore them. To not shrink away from their gaze. Suddenly he thinks that being forgotten wasn’t so bad after all.<br/>
<br/>
“He can stay with Iskall,” Xisuma decides when the silence goes on for too long. Evil X had only been half paying attention, but from what he gathered Iskall had pushed the hardest for the others to help Mumbo. He shouldn’t be all that surprised that even in spite of whatever it was Mumbo put him through he wanted to help his friend. Maybe he’s just a bit disappointed. “I’ll help Iskall build somewhere to put him, and if any of you would like to join us you can.”<br/>
<br/>
Evil X reaches a hand up to touch at his collarbone. It takes little imagination for him to conjure the near constant agony Mumbo had him in as he cut him open over and over and over. He doesn’t have to look to know that his flesh is unmarred there. Not a single sign that anything had happened to him at all, save for the blood that was still congealed on his skin. He contemplates jumping into the ocean here and now, but dismisses the idea when he realizes he hasn’t the strength to pull himself back out. He doubts Xisuma would be very happy fishing him out of the ocean right now.<br/>
<br/>
A hand comes down on his shoulder and he jumps, his breath hitching and his fingers curling against the skin over his clavicle.<br/>
<br/>
“You, my friend, are in desperate need of a bath,” Xisuma says, as if he’s read Evil X’s mind.<br/>
<br/>
Evil X turns to glance beyond Xisuma, at the rest of the hermits as they prepared to take Mumbo to the ice field that Iskall resides in. Mumbo was no less bloodied than Evil X was. He turns his gaze back to the ocean, to the steady in and out of the waves.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m fine…” he mumbles, even though he is not fine. The blood makes him itch, and every time it pulls against his skin he feels like he’s stuck to that table again, about to have a knife cutting through his flesh.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re not fooling me,” Xisuma says as he pulls Evil X’s arm over his shoulder to hoist him up. Evil X limply allows it. He wouldn’t have been able to fight Xisuma off if he’d wanted to. “C’mon. You can get cleaned up in Iskall’s lab while we get started on this… project.”<br/>
<br/>
At the word <em> lab </em> his heart begins to race. The last place he wanted to be was another lab. What choice did he have, though? It’s where Xisuma would be for however long it took them to finish Mumbo’s holding cell. He didn’t want to be somewhere Xisuma was not. The only other options were being alone and being with one of the other hermits, and both of them sounded miserable. He trusted the other hermits about as far as he could throw them, and right now that wasn’t very far at all. If he was left alone entirely then he’d just continue to wallow in his own blood.<br/>
<br/>
He sighs. Iskall’s lab it is.</p><p> </p><p>__</p><p> </p><p>The air in Iskall’s lab has a chill to it, even thick with hot steam as it was. Evil X supposes it comes with the territory of being under a frozen ocean. Mumbo’s lab in the other world was always just a little too warm. Between the temperature and the green slime blocks Iskall insists on decorating with, the atmosphere was nothing at all like the red laboratory he’d spent who knows how long in. He thinks that he shouldn’t feel so on edge here because of it, yet his heart still thumps painfully against his ribs, even after he’d been here long enough to scrub his skin clean and change into the spare clothing Iskall had lent him.<br/>
<br/>
He stares at himself in the mirror and thinks that he only looks marginally better without the blood covering him. His skin is sallow and sunken, deep bags under his bloodshot eyes. There’s a sizable amount of scruff growing on his cheeks. He grimaces. He’d asked Iskall if there were any razors in the laboratory’s washroom before he’d left, and the man had pointed to the medicine cabinet above the sink.<br/>
<br/>
Iskall couldn’t speak anymore. Mumbo had removed his vocal chords in the world of the red sun, and when they returned to the overworld, his speech had not been restored. Evil X’s face flushes at the thought.<br/>
<br/>
“What happened to your voice?” He’d asked when Iskall first used his notebook to communicate with him.<br/>
<br/>
Iskall glowered and scribbled in his book again. <em> Mumbo happened. </em><br/>
<br/>
Evil X wonders if Iskall envies him. He has no outward damage to his body, no visible disabilities. Iskall hadn’t seen what Mumbo did to him, or where the hermits had found him. From his perspective it must seem like Evil X had gotten a pretty good bargain.<br/>
<br/>
Evil X shakes the line of thinking from his head. He has enough things to dwell on as it is. He’s not sure why he cares what Iskall thinks anyway. He reaches for the mirror, pulling the cabinet open and searching it for the razor that Iskall claims he has. He finds it as well as some shaving cream.<br/>
<br/>
It gives him some semblance of normalcy, applying the cream to his scruff. It’s something to concentrate on other than the sorry state the rest of his face is in, or whether Iskall hates him. He gives himself a quick once over to make sure he’s done it evenly before picking the razor up and bringing it within an inch of his cheek. His fingers shake. Evil X grits his teeth for a moment before putting the blade against his skin. He drags it downward until he reaches the edge of his jaw and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. This is fine. This is easy. He can do this.<br/>
<br/>
He rinses the blade and takes it to his skin again. Easy. He does it again. He nicks his jaw. Evil X drops the razor in the sink with a clatter and squeezes his eyes shut, a whimper crawling up his throat like bile. Couldn’t even finish a shave without panic overwhelming him once more. Pathetic. How entirely useless of him. He wishes more than ever that he could die. That he already had. It was the smallest mercy the universe could have granted him, yet it had not deigned to give that to him.<br/>
<br/>
A hand comes down on his shoulder and he nearly jumps out of his skin. It takes everything within him to keep from whimpering again. He opens his eyes and sees Iskall behind him in the mirror. He expects to find annoyance in his expression, but he doesn’t. Evil X averts his eyes, finds himself staring at the razor in the sink, and looks back up at Iskall. Iskall furrows his brow.<br/>
<br/>
There’s fingers grabbing hold of his, prying them away from the edges of the sink. Iskall’s leading him to a seated position against the wall, and he feels too numb to fight it. Iskall kneels in front of him, and it’s then that Evil X realizes the man is holding the razor. He pulls away in an instant, slamming his head against the wall and yelping in pain. Iskall drops the razor, pulls out his notebook instead and scribbles something down.<br/>
<br/>
<em> You didn’t finish. Let me help. </em><br/>
<br/>
Evil X’s eyes scan the page, then scan it again, searching for any kind of deception. He looks at Iskall, whose expression asks if he may continue. Hesitantly, he nods. Iskall nods back and raises his arm again, telegraphing his every move like he’s trying not to spook a frightened animal.<br/>
<br/>
Evil X supposes that’s exactly what he is. He squeezes his eyes shut again as the razor touches his skin. He feels it being pulled down to his jawline, but there is no pain. He lets out a shaky breath. Iskall brings the razor back up to his cheek and repeats the motion. What cruel twist of fate was it that he could trust someone else to take a blade to his skin, but not himself?<br/>
<br/>
He feels Iskall put a finger under his chin, feels him lift his head to get a proper look at his neck. Evil X’s heart thumps hard against his ribs. He feels the gentle press of the razor against his throat. He gasps, curls his fingers into his pants to keep himself from taking a swing at Iskall, because it’s Iskall who’s kneeling before him, not Mumbo, and the razor in his hand is for shaving, not for slicing.<br/>
<br/>
He feels Iskall drag the razor up his neck, and as before no pain follows it. A relieved laugh spills out of him, and Iskall pauses for a moment before continuing. Evil X can’t help the next laugh that forces its way out. It’s uncontrolled hysterics. Every drag of the razor against his throat makes him laugh even more. He’s impressed that Iskall hasn’t outright abandoned him here for it.<br/>
<br/>
It isn’t much longer until Iskall is finished with him and he feels a tap on his shoulder. He opens his eyes to his own face and blinks. Iskall is holding a hand mirror up for him. He takes it and examines himself. Shaving has done very little to help with his haggard appearance. The nick he’d caused in his jaw was already healed. He squints at himself. Were his cheeks wet? He rubs his palm across one. Oh. He didn’t realize he’d been crying.<br/>
<br/>
He glances away from the mirror at Iskall, who was looking at him like maybe he needed a holding cell of his own. Iskall breaks eye contact to write something in his book. Evil X has a sinking feeling.<br/>
<br/>
<em> What happened to you? </em><br/>
<br/>
Evil X clenches his jaw. His eyes drift down to Iskall’s neck, to the scars there from the torture Mumbo had put him through that had caused him to lose his voice. He feels his own fingers grasping at his collarbone.<br/>
<br/>
“…How long was I gone? Before you came looking for him?” Evil X asks instead.<br/>
<br/>
Iskall grimaces. He scribbles. <em> You asked for 48 hours. That’s what we gave you. </em> <em><br/>
</em><br/>
Evil X has barely had a chance to finish reading before Iskall is scribbling something else down.<br/>
<br/>
<em> You sounded scared when you told us to let you go first. Why? </em><br/>
<br/>
“…Mumbo was in another world. The rules aren’t always the same. He killed you. No respawn. Not until you came back here. And now you’re permanently disabled. I thought I…” Evil X sighs. “I thought I might be able to spare you both that if I found him.”<br/>
<br/>
Iskall cocks his head at that. He points to a sentence in his notebook, the one that Evil X was trying his damnedest to ignore.<br/>
<br/>
<em> What happened to you? </em><br/>
<br/>
His fingers dig into his collarbone and if he weren’t wearing one of Iskall’s thick hoodies he thinks he might have drawn blood. “Days, Iskall. I was gone for days. Maybe weeks. It didn’t feel like 48 hours. Everything he did to you, he did to me.”<br/>
<br/>
Iskall examines him for a moment. Evil X feels like he’s back on Mumbo’s quartz table. Iskall glances down to write something in his book. Evil X’s heart feels constricted. He doesn’t need to see what Iskall’s written to know what the page is going to say.<br/>
<br/>
<em> Why don’t you look like it? </em><br/>
<br/>
Evil X looks down at his lap. He couldn’t get away from this without giving some kind of answer, but the truth? Iskall wouldn’t believe him anyway. Part of him thinks that being an immortal reaper is no less believable than what happened in the world with the red sun, but another part tells him that Iskall would simply think him mad or a liar, if not both. Iskall had no reason to trust him anyway after some of the things he had done.<br/>
<br/>
“Healing…. potions…” he ends up mumbling, picking at some loose threads in his pants as he does. “Used them to… keep me going as long as he wanted…”</p><p>Iskall doesn’t look convinced.</p><p> </p><p>__</p><p> </p><p>He’s still sitting on the floor of the washroom ten minutes later. Iskall had been reluctant to let Evil X go without giving a straight answer, but even he had his limits. Evil X imagines he must be eager to get back to Mumbo. He’s shocked the man was willing to leave his side for even a second. He would have assumed that Grian was the only other person he might have done that for.<br/>
<br/>
“Has Grian respawned yet?” He asks, glancing over at Iskall, who’ss standing at the sink, cleaning up the mess he’d made earlier.</p><p>Iskall frowns and writes just two words. <em> Not yet. </em> <em><br/>
</em><br/>
Evil X feels his stomach twist into knots. He has no idea how much time he lost in the world of the red sun, and he hasn’t put his helmet on since the other hermits found them and brought them home. For all he knew a patch note was waiting for him there.<br/>
<br/>
<em> Grian </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> The Red Lab </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> ??? </em> <em><br/>
</em><br/>
“Do you have my helmet?” He asks. “Does Xisuma? I need it. I need it now.”<br/>
<br/>
Iskall raises his brows and nods. When Evil X makes no move to stand, Iskall offers him a hand up. Evil X grasps it and allows Iskall to pull him to his feet. His legs shake under his weight. Iskall leads him out of the washroom. The entire lab passes by him in a blur. The only thought his brain can focus on is <em> Grian. The Red Lab. Grian. The Red Lab. Grian. The Red Lab. </em> <em><br/>
</em><br/>
“Evil X?” he hears someone say, and he snaps out of it to see Xisuma standing in front of him. Iskall is still at his side, supporting him.  “What’s wrong?”<br/>
<br/>
“Helmet,” He gasps out. “I need it.”<br/>
<br/>
Xisuma looks confused for only a moment before understanding seems to click in place. He turns and runs off to an area the hermits had filled with shulker boxes and chests while they worked on Mumbo’s holding cell. Evil X watches him dig through one of the boxes, heart thumping, until he’s pulling a red visored helmet out. He pulls away from Iskall’s support, stumbling towards Xisuma, meeting the other man halfway.<br/>
<br/>
Evil X grabs the helmet from Xisuma, ripping it from his hands and slamming it down over his own head. His breath fogs the visor up as he waits for the system to reboot itself. His throat feels constricted, and he can’t tell if it’s from the helmet hugging his neck or from his anxiety. The visor screen finally blinks to life, his vision filling with a sickening red HUD. His eyes dart to the corner.<br/>
<br/>
It’s empty. He lets out a relieved cry.<br/>
<br/>
Grian wasn’t dead.<br/>
<br/>
He pulls the helmet back off his head, sucking in a deep breath of the frigid air. He drops his helmet on the ice and it skitters away on the slick surface. Xisuma is at his side, hands holding him up.<br/>
<br/>
“Grian’s not dead,” he croaks, collapsing against Xisuma as the weight of the day fully sinks in. “He’s not dead.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, that’s reassuring to hear,” Xisuma says quietly, rubbing circles into Evil X’s back again as he had when they’d first found him in the red lab. “But right now I’m more worried about you. You should sit down, before you fall down.”<br/>
<br/>
Evil X nods. Xisuma leads him somewhere sheltered and lowers him down to the ground. He kneels in front of Evil X, examining him, but for what Evil X isn’t sure.<br/>
<br/>
“Have you had anything to eat yet?” Xisuma asks. Evil X shakes his head. Xisuma’s brow furrows. “Stay here. I’ll get you something.”<br/>
<br/>
Evil X nods again and after a second of hesitation, Xisuma leaves. Evil X lets his eyes close and slumps against the wall. </p><p>Grian wasn’t dead.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! Next chapter out Tuesday the 16th.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. What Happened To Evil X?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The hermits chat with Evil X about the events of the red sun world. Well, that's what they try to do, anyway.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter Warnings:<br/>panic attacks, disordered eating, intentional triggering.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Evil X finds himself staring resolutely at the floor of Grian’s base, doing his level best to tune out the conversation of his companions. He hadn’t expected Doc to be here when he’d accepted Xisuma’s invitation to come, though in retrospect it made sense. Nobody has any idea what condition Grian will be in when he respawns, not since Iskall had come back with no voice. It isn’t a matter of if Grian will be disabled when he respawns, but rather how he will be.<br/>
<br/>
“Etho left me with some of the blueprints for my arm so I would be able to do repairs without him,” Doc says to Xisuma, tapping his flesh fingers against his own metal appendage. “If he… yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
Evil X has gleaned enough from the conversation to know that Mumbo had taken Grian’s arms off in the red lab. Doc is annoyingly fixated on that fact. Perhaps because it’s something he feels confident he could fix. The more Doc brings it up, though, the harder it is for him to get the image of a scalpel cutting away Grian’s flesh out of his head. It makes his empty stomach flip and he holds his breath until it settles again.<br/>
<br/>
“You alright over there?” Xisuma asks, and it takes Evil X a moment to register that the words are being directed at him. He looks up, letting his breath out through his nose. Xisuma and Doc are both looking at him expectantly. Xisuma’s forehead is creased with worry and Doc’s eye is narrowed thoughtfully. He can’t stand the way they’re looking at him.<br/>
<br/>
He nods and ignores how dizzy the motion makes him feel. He’s starting to wish he hadn’t snuck the breakfast Xisuma made him into the trash. With the way his stomach had felt since last night it was going to be wasted whether he ate it or not. The bread and potatoes he’d eaten in the ice field hadn’t exactly lasted long either. At least this way Xisuma hadn’t made him stay behind at the base by himself. He wonders if Xisuma would have stayed with him if he asked. He wonders if he would have asked. </p><p>Probably not.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m fine,” he says. When that isn’t enough to make them stop staring with those awful expressions, he scowls. They finally turn back to Grian’s empty bed. He lets his shoulders sag the moment their eyes are off of him.<br/>
<br/>
It’s mostly silent in the tower for some time after that. Xisuma perches on a nearby chest and Evil X is quick to follow suit. Doc leans against another, but stays on his feet. His fingers keep tap tap tapping away and he looks lost in thought.<br/>
<br/>
“…If it’s something internal, Cleo might know how to deal with it,” Doc says. Evil X drops his gaze to the floor with a heavy sigh. Great. Back to this again. He pictures Mumbo elbow deep in his own guts this time and his head spins. He closes his eyes. When he opens them again the room still sways. He grips the lid of the chest tight like a lifeline, anything to keep himself from falling off. He thinks he hears Doc’s voice saying something else, but it’s too garbled to make out the words. He closes his eyes again.<br/>
<br/>
The next time Evil X opens them he’s staring straight up at the ceiling. He feels fingers probing the back of his head and he gasps, shoving at whoever it is that’s holding him. It takes him a moment to register that he is not tied down and that he is not in the red laboratory. The person hovering above him is Doc, not Mumbo, but his expression is uncomfortably clinical. Doc holds up his flesh hand in front of Evil X’s face and he blinks stupidly at it for a moment until his eyes focus. There’s something dark and wet staining his fingers, and it takes him a moment to realize it’s probably blood. His stomach turns again and he reaches a shaky hand to touch at the back of his head. His fingers come back red.<br/>
<br/>
“Come on, man, breathe,” Doc prompts. Evil X sucks in air until his lungs hurt, then he lets it all back out. “Here, I’ll help you sit up.”<br/>
<br/>
Evil X wants to snap at Doc, tell him he’s not an invalid, tell him he can do it himself, but Doc’s already snaking an arm under his shoulders and hefting him up. Evil X lets out a dissatisfied growl, but Doc ignores him. He shoves Doc away again as soon as he’s back vertical. Doc sighs.<br/>
<br/>
“You hit your head when you fainted. Really nasty stuff. You saw,” he says, motioning to Evil X’s still bloodied hand. Evil X glances at it and feels himself getting dizzy again. He scoots backwards until his back collides with another of Grian’s haphazardly placed chests, anything that might actually keep him sitting upright. He wipes his hand off on his pants until the only red left on them is the blood that had sunk into the whorls of his fingertips.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m fine. It’ll heal.” He says, because it’s true, really. Physically, he was fine. Physically, he would heal.<br/>
<br/>
Doc huffs in response. “No, man, it is not fine. You probably have a concussion from a blow like that.”<br/>
<br/>
“Who cares.”<br/>
<br/>
“I care,” Doc says. Evil X snorts derisively. Doc scowls. “Xisuma cares.”<br/>
<br/>
That one he can’t argue with, though it does make him notice something. “Where is Xisuma, anyway?”<br/>
<br/>
“Looking for food for you. For some reason he believes you haven’t eaten anything today.”<br/>
<br/>
So he’d noticed that? Guilt tugs at his gut, and his stomach lets out an angry growl. He crosses his arms over it as if that might stop Doc from hearing it. Doc levels him with an unimpressed stare. “No wonder you fainted. You must have low blood sugar.”<br/>
<br/>
“Can we talk about something else?” Evil X says.<br/>
<br/>
“Fine,” Doc agrees. “What happened in the other world?”<br/>
<br/>
“Anything other than that?” Evil X growls through gritted teeth.<br/>
<br/>
Doc narrows his eyes. “And when would be a good time to talk about it?”<br/>
<br/>
“How about never?” Evil X glares and does his best to ignore his thumping heart beat against his ribs. “There’s nothing to talk about.”<br/>
<br/>
“Nothing? Really? Nothing happened?” Doc questions.<br/>
<br/>
“Nothing. Happened.” Evil X grinds out.<br/>
<br/>
“Bullshit. That episode at Iskall’s base yesterday wasn’t nothing. This,” Doc motions to the chest Evil X had been sitting on. “wasn’t nothing. Something happened there.”<br/>
<br/>
For just a moment Evil X thinks Iskall told Doc about his panic attack in the bathroom before he remembers the incident above the ice with Xisuma and his helmet. He’s sure Doc has noticed that he hasn’t even brought it with him today. If that doesn’t prove the point Doc is trying to make, Evil X doesn’t know what would. Still, he clenches his fists and his teeth and growls out, “How is this for an explanation? It’s none of your fucking business.”<br/>
<br/>
Doc gives him an unreadable look. Evil X can’t help but squirm under his gaze. For all his posturing, he feels too weak to even stand. It doesn’t stop him from trying. Doc’s hands on his shoulders keep him from getting far—Evil X’s breath hitches. He shoves Doc away again, but it’s only through Doc’s consideration that he’s actually released.<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t touch me!” He snarls.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m only trying to help you,” Doc says.<br/>
<br/>
“Did you even notice I was gone?!” Evil X shouts, his voice breaking on the words.<br/>
<br/>
Doc doesn’t meet his eyes, and the vindication feels like a heavy stone on his chest. He feels hot tears welling in his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“You’ve never cared about me. None of you have.”<br/>
<br/>
“I want to now,” Doc says, and the conviction in his voice gives Evil X pause. “If you’ll allow me to.”<br/>
<br/>
Evil X glares hard, searches Doc’s face for any deception, but this time Doc meets his gaze steady. The sound of rockets is all that breaks Evil X’s concentration as Xisuma finally returns.<br/>
<br/>
“Sorry that took so long,” Xisuma says as he approaches. “Wasn’t sure what would be easiest on your stomach. Hope you like mushroom stew.”<br/>
<br/>
Evil X gives him a flat look. Xisuma, of course, knows that he does not. Xisuma chuckles as he kneels beside Evil X, offering the stew to him. Evil X takes it with a sigh.<br/>
<br/>
“Well, eat up,” Xisuma says. Evil X hesitates, staring into the brown broth with unmasked disdain before looking at Xisuma again. Xisuma gives him a very pointed look. “We wouldn’t want you taking another tumble, would we?”<br/>
<br/>
Evil X scowls and brings a spoonful up to his lips. Xisuma’s eyes crinkle with a smile and it’s almost enough to make up for the awful taste of mushroom in his mouth.<br/>
<br/>
“Why don’t you go keep an eye on Grian’s bed?” Doc says, and whatever minuscule joy Evil X feels vanishes in an instant. “I want to make sure there is no… lasting damage.”<br/>
<br/>
Evil X gives Xisuma a pleading look, but Xisuma is already nodding in acquiesce. “Sure thing.”<br/>
<br/>
Xisuma stands and as he does he puts a hand right on the top of Evil X’s head, ruffling his hair. Evil X grumbles in protest. Doc gives them both an amused look, and he glares.<br/>
<br/>
“Play nice now,” Xisuma says. Evil X sighs as he leaves, bringing another miserable spoonful of stew to his mouth.<br/>
<br/>
“How is your head?” Doc asks.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s fine,” Evil X says. Despite his words, Doc reaches a hand up to probe at that spot on the back of his head. Evil X can’t help the warning growl in his throat. Doc simply puts his other hand up placatingly in response. He frowns and pulls his hand away.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re already healed. Like it never happened.”<br/>
<br/>
“Told you it was fine,” Evil X grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
“How?” Doc asks, and Evil X finds himself squirming under his gaze again. Doc’s giving him that cold, clinical look and he feels like he’s some kind of lab rat. Or like he’s strapped to a table of quartz with a scalpel poised above his collarbone. He’s snapped out of his thoughts as Doc yanks the bowl of stew from his hands with an exasperated sigh. “Give me that, before you spill it everywhere.”<br/>
<br/>
Evil X tucks his hands into his lap as soon as they’re free, trying to hide their shaking from Doc, though he certainly was already aware. If Doc does notice, he says nothing, instead focusing on preparing another spoonful for Evil X.<br/>
<br/>
“If you start making train, plane, or automobile noises I’m walking away,” Evil X says flatly.<br/>
<br/>
“Then for your sake I won’t,” Doc says. “Because in your current condition I doubt you would even make it five steps before falling flat on your face.”<br/>
<br/>
Evil X wants to argue, but he knows that Doc is probably right. Instead he lets out a huff. Doc brings the spoon to Evil X’s lips and reluctantly he drinks the broth. This is the second time in twenty-four hours he’s allowed someone else to perform a basic task for him and it was no less humiliating now than it was yesterday.<br/>
<br/>
“Now, I believe we were having a conversation about the events of the redstone world?” Doc says. Evil X tenses.<br/>
<br/>
“Not as far as I recall.” Doc gives him a pointed look and Evil X glares. “Spare me the interrogation. It’s been one day.”<br/>
<br/>
Doc opens his mouth to argue, but Evil X cuts him off before he can. “If you want to show me you care then you’ll drop it. I just… want to finish this horrid soup and wait for Grian. Please.”<br/>
<br/>
Doc is giving him another unreadable look and Evil X feels his face flush. He hates how desperate he feels, how desperate he sounds, but he can’t explain himself to Doc anymore than he can Iskall. He doesn’t want to. He really would rather just forget the whole thing happened.<br/>
<br/>
Doc sighs and scoops up another spoonful of soup. “Fine. Alright. You win. For today… you don’t have to talk about it.”<br/>
<br/>
Evil X breathes a sigh of relief. “…Thank you.”</p><p>__</p><p> </p><p>Evil X sits on the sandy floor of the Coral Shop, eyes closed against the bright colors as he basks in the feeling of weightlessness. The white noise of the bubble elevators is an odd comfort. The warm water caressing his skin soothes him. It’s the most at ease he’s felt since returning to the island.<br/>
<br/>
He’s not sure why he even decided to jump into the shop in the first place. One moment he was following Xisuma through the shopping district as he checked his profits, and the next he was leaping into the water and letting himself sink like a stone to the bottom.<br/>
<br/>
The banality of it was driving him a little stir crazy, all things considered. He doesn’t understand how Xisuma can just go on like normal. He supposes things mostly were normal for him, besides having Evil X as a particularly anxious shadow and the general absence of Mumbo, Grian, and Iskall from his day to day. It annoys him a bit that Xisuma can keep such good cheer when every day he feels like he’s on the verge of collapse. He wishes that was something he still felt capable of doing, but it was a skill that had atrophied long before the redstone world.<br/>
<br/>
A loud splashing from above announces the arrival of someone new, and Evil X lets out a bubbly sigh. Xisuma has probably found him. He’s been gone for some time now. Hopefully he hasn’t worried too much about Evil X. There’s a garbled sound like a voice that seems to echo all around Evil X’s head and he finally opens his eyes. To his surprise, Scar floats before him, tilting his head curiously. He opens his mouth and another incomprehensibly garbled sound comes out. Evil X gives him a confused look, and Scar smiles sheepishly. He points up at an exit and with another bubbly sigh, Evil X nods in understanding. They both swim for the same elevator, the bubbles launching them up the coral shaft until they’re back above water.<br/>
<br/>
As soon as his feet are on land, Evil X shakes his hair out, and Scar is quick to follow suit. He locates his pile of clothes and begins to redress. They stick uncomfortably against his wet skin, but it was still better than wearing waterlogged clothes.<br/>
<br/>
“What were you doing down there?” Scar asks.<br/>
<br/>
“Sitting,” Evil X snaps back defensively, but if his tone bothers Scar, it doesn’t show on his face. “What were <em> you </em> doing down there?”<br/>
<br/>
Scar laughs, and Evil X feels his defenses lower slightly at how pleasant he sounds. “Uh, this is ConCorp’s shop? I was checking the profits.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh,” Evil X says. His face flushes a bit.<br/>
<br/>
“You know, we don’t usually allow loitering on our property,” Scar adds. “Buuuut, you seem like you got a lot on your mind, so just this once I’m gonna let it slide.”<br/>
<br/>
“Great,” Evil X says dully. “Thanks.”<br/>
<br/>
“You wanna talk about it?”<br/>
<br/>
Evil X glares. “No.”<br/>
<br/>
Scar shrugs. “Alright, alright, no pressure. I get it. Is there… anything I <em> can </em> help you with, though?”<br/>
<br/>
“Probably not,” Evil X sighs. “I don’t even know what I need help with.”<br/>
<br/>
“You know what you need?” Scar says. Evil X is apprehensive, but raises his brows curiously in spite of this. “Cake. Cake fixes everything.”<br/>
<br/>
Evil X rolls his eyes. “No it doesn’t.”<br/>
<br/>
“Sure it does! C’mon, let me show you.” Scar says. He turns and jogs around the corner of the Coral Shop without waiting for Evil X to agree and with a groan, he follows. They stop for a moment around the other side of the Coral Shop where Scar collects his own pile of clothes, and once his hat is settled firmly back on his head he leads Evil X to the bakery.<br/>
<br/>
Scar takes a moment to evaluate all the cakes on display—for what qualities Evil X isn’t sure—and then finally picks one out. He cuts two slices from it and offers one to Evil X. Evil X stares.<br/>
<br/>
“Sooo, are you gonna take it or just stare? ‘Cause I wasn't really planning on feeding it to you if that's what you're waiting for.” Scar says with an awkward, crooked smile. Evil X can't help an amused snort and finally takes the cake off Scar’s hands. He's only been back a few days but he's already exhausted by everyone treating him like fragile porcelain. Of all the hermits he didn't think it would be Scar that would understand that. Gentle kindness was a hallmark of the man. Maybe he had a deeper understanding of what sort of kindness people needed because of it.<br/>
<br/>
Scar picks up his own slice and raises it like a toast. Evil X feels his lips curl into a crooked smile of his own and raises his slice in return. He picks up his fork and digs in.<br/>
<br/>
The cake fills him with a pleasant warmth, like being wrapped in a blanket on a rainy day.<br/>
<br/>
“So?” Scar asks. “Scale from one to ten, how is it?”<br/>
<br/>
“A three,” Evil X replies. “Four at most.”<br/>
<br/>
Scar laughs and Evil X feels content, more content than he has in a long time. “Alright! Just two more slices and we'll be at a ten.”<br/>
<br/>
Evil X hums. “I think I can find the time for that.”<br/>
<br/>
When Xisuma finally finds him he's sitting on the floor of the bakery sharing the last piece of cake with Scar while he tells Evil X stories about Jellie. </p><p>He doesn’t think about the redstone world.</p><p>__</p><p> </p><p>It’s an eat nothing, lay in bed all day kind of day, Evil X thinks. He pulls the covers up over his head and hopes that Xisuma will agree. The chances are slim, but he can always hope. Moments later the blanket is pulled away and he groans.<br/>
<br/>
“Rise and shine!” Xisuma says with his usual cheer. Evil X groans again and rolls over.<br/>
<br/>
“How about stay in bed in the dark?” Evil X says.<br/>
<br/>
“Uh uh, no way. I’m not going to let you wallow in here all day,” Xisuma says, shaking his head.<br/>
<br/>
“I would really enjoy a little wallowing…” Evil X mutters.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s miserable and stuffy in here!” Xisuma exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
Evil X grabs the edge of his blanket and tries to tug it out of Xisuma’s grip. Xisuma holds tight and Evil X whines. “Give it back.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why don’t you want to get up?” Xisuma asks. He sounds disappointed, and Evil X hates that he caused that.<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t feel good,” He says, which is not totally a lie, he thinks. He doesn’t feel good. Mentally, he’s entirely too exhausted. A week of being coddled and tiptoed around and interrogated was wearing on him almost as much as Mumbo’s scalpel had. Going out and having social interaction with overly sympathetic, overly <em> nosy </em> hermits might just be the straw that breaks his back.<br/>
<br/>
Evil X tugs on the blanket again and this time Xisuma releases it with a sigh.<br/>
<br/>
“Alright,” Xisuma says. “Alright. Stay right there, then. I’ll be right back.”<br/>
<br/>
Xisuma turns for the door and leaves, and Evil X is almost curious enough to follow. His foot has barely touched the floor when he remembers he’s supposed to be too sick to get up. He pulls his leg back under the covers and curls up in a ball. He closes his eyes. He wonders what Xisuma is doing. Now that he’s by himself he finds that he feels lonely. He doesn’t <em> really </em> want to be alone. Not entirely, anyway. He curls in on himself and squeezes his eyes tighter against the tears he feels building behind his eyelids.<br/>
<br/>
The door creaks open again and Evil X’s eyes snap open. Xisuma approaches with a tray, and he feels his heart speed up at the sight until Xisuma is close enough for him to make out the rim of a steaming cup. Just food. It’s just food. Nothing to be afraid of. Evil X let’s out a shaking breath and Xisuma sits at the foot of his bed.<br/>
<br/>
“C’mon now, sit up. Just because you’re wallowing doesn’t mean you get to skip breakfast.” Xisuma says.<br/>
<br/>
Not eating was a very important part of his wallowing plan, but he’s not sure that’s a point he’ll win on. He sighs and pushes himself up on his elbows. “Fine…”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t look so glum. It’s just toast.” Xisuma says. “Something light to settle your stomach.”<br/>
<br/>
Evil X wants to tell Xisuma that’s not the kind of sick he is, but it comes out as another whine that he doesn’t have the energy to correct. Xisuma gives him a sympathetic smile and offers him the plate. Evil X picks up the slice of toast and begins nibbling on it. Xisuma makes a disgruntled noise. “You’re getting crumbs all over the sheets!”<br/>
<br/>
“Better for wallowing,” Evil X says.<br/>
<br/>
“I respectfully disagree,” Xisuma says and brushes the crumbs onto the floor. He drops the plate in Evil X’s lap with a pointed look. Evil X sticks his tongue out. Xisuma rolls his eyes. “Do you need anything else?”<br/>
<br/>
Evil X feels incredibly small in that moment. Xisuma’s day would have started much sooner if he hadn’t been taking care of Evil X. He had projects to work on. Friends to visit. But instead he was here, making toast for an unwanted house guest. What a waste of space. What a waste of time. He wants Xisuma to leave. He wants Xisuma to stay. He <em> really </em> wants to puke. Toast suddenly doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.<br/>
<br/>
Xisuma places a gentle hand on his knee. “Evil X?”<br/>
<br/>
Evil X can barely hear himself as he whispers, “Will you stay with me today?”<br/>
<br/>
Xisuma’s eyes soften. “Yeah. I’ll stay.”<br/>
<br/>
Evil X feels tears threatening to drop again and wipes his eyes on the back of his hand. “Thanks…”</p><p> </p><p>“‘Course,” Xisuma says, squeezing Evil X’s knee. “I’ll always stay.”</p><p>__</p><p><br/>
Xisuma goes to Iskall’s base to check in with him, which means Evil X goes to Iskall’s base, despite his instincts telling him he should go anywhere on the server but there. As they walk towards the entrance of Iskall’s lab, Evil X can’t help but let his eyes linger on the obsidian box that sits in the sky like some kind of horrible omen. He wonders what Mumbo is doing up there, but his mind can conjure up nothing good. He absentmindedly rubs at his collarbone.<br/>
<br/>
Iskall’s lab is as discomforting to be in as it was the last time Evil X was here. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie—Iskall’s hoodie. He should probably give it back soon. Today would have been the perfect opportunity, if he’d remembered to bring any other clothes. Maybe next time.<br/>
<br/>
They find Iskall and Grian in a lower part of the lab that had been converted into a living area for the two hermits. Iskall is helping Grian get around now, Evil X recalls. Grian did indeed respawn without arms as Doc had suspected. He’d been there to witness him respawn himself. Even still, seeing Grian slouching in his chair at the dining table, bouncing his leg because he has no hands with which to direct his anxious energy knocks the wind out of his lungs. They make eye contact for just a moment before Evil X looks away, glancing at Iskall instead, who sits next to Grian with his notebook open in front of him, tapping his pen against the paper. He beams when he sees Xisuma approaching, but it doesn’t quite reach his tired eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“There you are! You’re late!” Grian says, sitting up straight. “We were getting worried.”<br/>
<br/>
Iskall scribbles furiously and shows them both the book. <em> Grian </em> <em> was getting worried. I knew you were fine. </em> <em><br/>
</em><br/>
Evil X sighs. This is already exhausting him. Like usual, he wishes he had chosen to stay behind, but the anxiety in his belly at the prospect of being left alone had won again.<br/>
<br/>
“Sorry, sorry! <em> Someone </em> ,” Xisuma says, turning to give Evil X a pointed look. “was a little slow to get ready today, but we’re here now!”<br/>
<br/>
Evil X ducks his head. Xisuma doesn’t mean any harm, he knows, but it still makes him feel like something of a burden. An inconvenience. Xisuma pulls a chair out for him and he mumbles a thanks before taking a seat.<br/>
<br/>
“How are you two doing?” Xisuma asks.<br/>
<br/>
Grian sighs. “I’ve been better, Xisuma, I’m not gonna lie.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s a lot to process. A lot of change to adapt to. If you ever need any help with anything…”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re the first we’ll come to, X.”<br/>
<br/>
A snapping sound catches Evil X’s attention and he turns to see Iskall staring at him. He’s holding his notebook up again.<br/>
<br/>
<em> You’re scruffy again. </em> <em><br/>
</em><br/>
Evil X brings a hand up to his face and rubs at his scratchy stubble. He hasn’t even considered trying to shave since last time. “Yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
Iskall writes again. <em> Also you still have my hoodie. You thinking about giving it back? </em> <em><br/>
</em><br/>
Evil X shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
<em> You’re really talkative today. </em> <em><br/>
</em><br/>
“Not much to say, I guess…”<br/>
<br/>
Iskall considers him for a moment, tapping his pen against the paper before writing again.<br/>
<br/>
<em> You ready to tell me the truth about what happened yet? </em> <em><br/>
</em><br/>
Evil X clenches his jaw. Iskall doesn’t beat around the bush for very long, does he? He’s sick of this line of questioning. Nearly everyone has had a go at him by now. Why did they want to know so badly? Was he little more than cheap gossip to them?<br/>
<br/>
Probably.<br/>
<br/>
“How about this,” he snarls through his teeth. “Tell me how Mumbo took your voice from you, and I’ll tell you what he did to me.”<br/>
<br/>
Iskall swallows thickly, and Evil X barely keeps his expression neutral as he watches Iskall’s internal debate. After a moment he sets his notebook back down on the table. He puts his pen to paper and Evil X leans forward.<br/>
<br/>
“What’s that, Iskall? I can’t hear you.” He growls. Iskall pauses. His hand is shaking, and Evil X feels a dark satisfaction at that. Iskall keeps writing, slower now as he tries to control his shaking hand.<br/>
<br/>
“Speak up, Iskall,” Evil X says. Iskall lets out a huff of air through his nose and grips his pen hard enough his knuckles begin to turn white.<br/>
<br/>
“Evil X…” he hears Xisuma say in a warning tone, but he ignores it.<br/>
<br/>
“You’ll have to talk louder than that, Iskall!” he shouts as he stands, his words punctuated by the screech of his chair legs across the tile floor. “I can’t hear a word you’re saying!”<br/>
<br/>
A hand wraps around his elbow and yanks him away from Iskall, snapping him out of his anger. Xisuma has his arm in a tight grip and when he speaks he sounds dangerous like Evil X has never heard before. “You are <em> seriously </em> out of line right now.”<br/>
<br/>
Evil X rips his arm out of Xisuma’s grasp and glares. He doesn’t have nearly the fire behind his eyes that he sees in Xisuma’s. He can’t stand to see that anger directed at him, and he turns his gaze away quickly. He looks at Grian, who’s giving him a look like he’s a monster, and then Iskall, who is still hunched over his notebook, eyes squeezed shut as he sucks in shaking breaths.<br/>
<br/>
Evil X feels a pang in his chest. This isn’t fair. He shouldn’t feel bad about this. This wasn’t his fault.<br/>
<br/>
“Evil X,” Xisuma says. “Apologize.”<br/>
<br/>
Evil X clenches his fists. He’s not a child. He doesn’t need to be scolded like one, and he doesn’t owe anyone an apology. He doesn’t. Really. No matter how badly he feels he should listen.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m going home,” he says instead. He turns and stomps out of the kitchen before Xisuma can argue.<br/>
<br/>
He traces their path through the lab back out to the field of ice above. He doesn’t stop or slow until he’s standing halfway between the lab and the edge of the ice field and he’s staring up at the obsidian box. Evil X digs his fingers into his palms until he draws blood. He screams.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! Next chapter out June 23rd. c:</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Wax Winged</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Evil X's anger comes to a head. An axe head, to be specific.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter Warnings:<br/>suicidal ideation, nightmares, graphic descriptions of gore, disordered eating, panic attacks, abuse of power, drugging, forced institutionalization.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Evil X goes home he goes home to his own little cave off the main island, not to the spare bedroom of Xisuma’s base. </p>
<p>He makes a beeline for his bed and dives face first onto the mattress gracelessly. He screams some more. Then he curls up on his side and kicks his blanket out from under him so he can pull it up over his head. </p>
<p>He fully expects Xisuma to come looking for him in the hours that follow his departure from Iskall’s base, and he listens carefully for the sound of rockets firing outside or his nether portal activating. He hears neither. Equal parts relief and disappointment stir in his stomach, and he feels nauseous. </p>
<p>So much for always staying, he thinks bitterly.</p>
<p>Then again, he hadn’t exactly stayed himself. </p>
<p>Evil X rolls over onto his other side with a sigh and closes his eyes. It’s not particularly late in the afternoon, but he doesn’t have the energy to get back out of bed. He wishes that sleep would just pull him into its embrace and never let go. That would be easier than having to think, having to feel. The next best thing to dying, he would say.</p>
<p>The air under the blanket begins to taste stale and hot and Evil X pulls the edge close to his face, enough to poke his nose out. He takes a deep breath, but it makes no difference. It’s still as stale as before, even more so, somehow. There’s a sickening, coppery quality to it. It smells just like—</p>
<p>Evil X shoots up, throwing the blanket off himself as his eyes dart around the room, taking in the quartz walls of the red lab. His heart drops into the pit of his stomach.</p>
<p>He leaps off the quartz table when he realizes he isn’t tied down, his feet nearly sliding out from under him on the blood and redstone that’s staining the floor. He’s alone, for now. He doesn’t feel like waiting around to see if anyone will find him. He doesn’t know who he should expect. </p>
<p>Evil X leaves the room, creeping out into the hallway on heavy feet. He hears a voice echoing down the hall, familiar but not threatening. Frightened. Weak. He recognizes it, although something deep in his gut tells him he shouldn’t hear it at all. His feet start carrying him in the direction of the voice even as his mind protests, begs them to take him away, take him out of this wretched place. The voice grows louder the closer they get until he’s standing in the doorway watching Iskall, tied down to a quartz table, shaking fearfully.</p>
<p>“Mumbo, please,” Iskall croaks. “You don’t have to do this.”</p>
<p>Mumbo is nowhere in sight. He steps closer, closer and closer until he’s right beside the table, staring down at Iskall’s desperate face. He wants to look away, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes away. </p>
<p>“Mumbo, Mumbo, let me go, please,” Iskall begs. “We can go home. I can take you home. Don’t you want to go? Leave this place?”</p>
<p>No, Evil X thinks. No I don’t want to go, I want to stay here. I want you to stay here too. </p>
<p>I do want to go home, though, another part of him protests. Why do I think I don’t want to go home? I want to go home. </p>
<p>His arm seems to move of its own accord, reaching for the tray of surgical implements on the table beside Iskall. His fingers curl around the scalpel. He tries to protest, to scream at himself to stop, but his mouth can’t seem to grasp the words. </p>
<p>“Mumbo, seriously, think about what you’re doing,” Iskall says, the desperation in his voice making his accent thick. Evil X leans over Iskall and presses the blade to his throat even as he screams at himself to stop. Stop. Stop!</p>
<p>He presses harder and Iskall screams. Blood pools out of the wound, so much blood, more blood than a tiny wound like that should produce. He drags the blade down, down, down until Iskall is nearly cut in half from throat to belly. He keeps cutting, deeper and deeper. Iskall’s screams still echo, despite his lifeless eyes. Evil X tries to tear his own away from the sight, but he can’t, he can’t, <em> he can’t</em>.</p>
<p>Evil X jerks awake with a gasp, shaking from head to toe. He’s in his cave. He’s in his bed. He’s not in the red lab. He doesn’t have a knife buried in Iskall’s gut. He isn’t Mumbo. It was just a dream. It was just a nightmare. </p>
<p>Evil X throws the blanket off himself, suppressing a shiver at the fading memory of his nightmare. His soft mattress was familiarly warm in a way that the quartz table’s heat was not. He stands and heads straight for his nether portal. He feels like he’s admitting defeat, crawling back to Xisuma so quickly, but at this point what dignity did he have to protect? He grits his teeth in frustration.</p>
<p>It doesn’t take him long at all to find his way through the nether hub, unfinished as it is. The only portals he uses regularly are his own and Xisuma’s anyway. There’s a dissonance within himself as he finds himself closer and closer to Xisuma’s portal. Part of him feels a reluctance to go any further, to ask Xisuma to welcome him back when he was so clearly angry. He bites his cheek and forces his feet into the portal. </p>
<p>It’s night time now, he notes as he steps out of the portal into Xisuma’s base. It’s dark and quiet, darker than it was during the day. Even still, he navigates it with a practiced ease until he finds himself in Xisuma’s bedroom. He lets out a breath and hurries to the bed, biting back a whimper as his weak legs give out from under him. He leans forward into his fall and lands right on top of Xisuma’s sleeping form. </p>
<p>Xisuma jerks awake with a snort. “Wha— Who’s there?”</p>
<p>Evil X can’t seem to form the words to tell him who it is. Instead he wraps his arms around Xisuma tight and buries his face against the other man’s shoulder. Xisuma is tense for a moment, then something seems to click and he relaxes. </p>
<p>“Evil X?” Xisuma asks as he shifts himself to wrap his arm around Evil X, his hand settling on his back. Evil X ends up with his face pressed against Xisuma’s chest, but he finds it less awkward of a position to hug him in and doesn’t complain. “What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>“Bad dream,” Evil X manages to choke out. </p>
<p>“Oh, Evil X…” Xisuma sighs as he moves to sit up. Evil X makes no effort to come up with him, instead letting himself fall into Xisuma’s lap. Xisuma doesn’t seem to mind it. His hand migrates from Evil X’s back up to his head and his fingers begin to gently stroke his hair. Evil X nearly sobs. The touch is so gentle, so delicate, he can barely believe it’s real. Xisuma pauses for just a brief moment, and Evil X squeezes him tighter, begging him to continue. He doesn’t relax until he feels Xisuma’s fingers carding through his hair again.</p>
<p>“You’re alright,” Xisuma soothes. “You’re safe.”</p>
<p>“I–I was M–Mumbo,” Evil X says. “A–And I k–killed Iskall.”</p>
<p>“That sounds terrible,” Xisuma says. “It’s a good thing it didn’t happen, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>“But… Iskall’s voice…” Evil X mumbles.</p>
<p>“That isn’t your fault,” Xisuma assures.</p>
<p>“I tried–tried to stop them. I tried to stop them from going.”</p>
<p>“You did your best, Evil X.”</p>
<p>“It–It wasn’t good enough.”</p>
<p>Xisuma sighs again and Evil X can’t help but flinch at the sound. “You tried. The fact that you tried at all is what matters.”</p>
<p>It’s not, Evil X thinks. Iskall still lost his voice. Grian still lost his arms. If he had been able to overpower Mumbo that wouldn’t have happened. Instead all he’d done was delayed the inevitable, and given Mumbo a plaything to occupy his time while he waited.</p>
<p>“Evil X?” Xisuma asks softly.</p>
<p>Evil X nods slightly to indicate he was still awake. Xisuma continues to stroke his hair. </p>
<p>“Can–Can I stay here tonight?” Evil X asks.</p>
<p>“‘Course you can,” Xisuma says. </p>
<p>Evil X shifts into a more comfortable position and closes his eyes. Maybe he wasn’t fated to make a positive difference in the lives of the hermits. Maybe the only thing he was meant to do was escort them at their end. They would all be better off if he disappeared until he was needed, truly needed, if such a time even existed.</p>
<p>When he sleeps, he dreams of an empty, quartz lab. He hears the drip, drip, drip of the blood he knows is there, but no matter how hard he searches he can’t find the source.</p>
<p>__</p>
<p>“You should apologize to Iskall,” Xisuma says in the morning as he sets a bowl in front of Evil X. </p>
<p>Evil X slams his spoon on the table with a growl. Xisuma’s had the courtesy to serve beetroot soup this morning, something marginally better than mushroom stew, but he apparently didn’t have the manners to keep his stupid opinions to himself during breakfast. “You’re going to start on that already?”</p>
<p>“Don’t you act like you’re the victim here,” Xisuma argues hotly. “Do you even understand how badly you hurt Iskall yesterday?”</p>
<p>“He wouldn’t stop bugging me,” Evil X protests even as his face flushes. Of course he knows he hurt Iskall. That was what he wanted at the time. He found a point of weakness and attacked it. Bit into it like a tenacious wolf and didn’t let go. </p>
<p>“That is no reason to have done that!” Xisuma says, fists clenched. He shakes a little to hear Xisuma raise his voice at him, but his own anger takes hold of him. He won’t cower away from Xisuma like a helpless animal. He’ll fight back.</p>
<p>“It’s none of his business what happened to me! He should quit asking!” He snaps. </p>
<p>“Quit making excuses, Evil X. I’m not gonna budge on this.” Xisuma says with finality. </p>
<p>Evil X growls and stands. “Fine. Don’t. I don’t care.”</p>
<p>He turns and stalks out of the room. Xisuma sounds exasperated when he calls after, “Where are you going now?”</p>
<p>“Nowhere!” Evil X shouts back. “Don’t follow me!”</p>
<p>His stomach rumbles in annoyance, reminding him that he hadn’t even eaten breakfast yet, but he ignores it. He hates beetroot soup anyway.</p>
<p>__</p>
<p>Evil X spends a not insignificant amount of time the following week avoiding—well, everyone.</p>
<p>He almost thinks he’s a little too good at it after his years of practice. He finds he has no trouble at all going unseen by the hermits, even the ones that were actively seeking him out. The longer he goes without running into them, though, the more he wishes they would find him. </p>
<p>They just aren’t trying hard enough, he thinks uncharitably. It wasn’t his fault they couldn’t find him. That’s what he kept telling himself every time one of his hiding places was nearly discovered and he bolted before he was spotted, anyway. </p>
<p>His stomach growls at him and he growls back. Without Xisuma around to make sure he ate, he found himself doing it less and less. It wasn’t as if he could die of starvation anyway. Still, it was starting to get to him. His head felt light and his hands were shaky. He needed <em> something</em>. </p>
<p>He finds himself inside the bakery, staring at the cakes on display, stomach positively screaming at him to take one, any one. Cake fixes everything, his stomach shouts. He’s still not sure he agrees with that, but even he has to admit that it had made him feel better to sit in the bakery eating cake and listening to low stakes stories about Scar’s cat. He picks a cake and takes the whole thing and finds a spot on the floor to sit. He doesn’t have time to find a better place to eat. His stomach wants this cake <em> now</em>.</p>
<p>He stabs at the cake, pulling a large chunk off, almost too large to fit in his mouth, but he doesn’t care. He’s <em> hungry</em>. He barely chews the bite before swallowing it. Then he stuffs another in his mouth, and another. He’s halfway through the entire cake by the time his stomach finally seems to calm. He pokes what’s left with his fork, trying to decide whether to keep eating, take the rest with him, or throw it away when he’s startled by a voice at the entrance of the bakery.</p>
<p>“I thought I might find you here,” Joe says. Evil X shrinks in on himself, cursing his own carelessness. The jig is up. He was finally caught. “Xisuma’s been real worried about you, you know.”</p>
<p>“Screw Xisuma,” Evil X says reflexively. Then he considers Joe’s words a little harder and asks, “Why did you think I’d be here?”</p>
<p>“Scar’s about the only person who’s had a positive interaction with you since coming back here,” Joe says. “I figured if you’d be anywhere, it’d be where it happened.”</p>
<p>Evil X’s cheeks heat. “He told you about that?”</p>
<p>“No need to feel embarrassed by it,” Joe says with a reassuring smile. “Scar was just happy he had someone new to talk about Jellie to. He thinks the rest of us are getting tired of his stories.”</p>
<p>Joe finally comes into the bakery, seating himself on the floor opposite Evil X. There was nothing between Evil X and his point of escape now, and after a beat he realizes Joe had done that on purpose. Joe was good at dealing with people like that. Always had been. He relaxes just a fraction. </p>
<p>“We’re not, of course,” Joe continues. “But it’s hard not to feel that way sometimes.”</p>
<p>“I guess,” Evil X says. He could get up and leave if he wanted. Joe had already made that implicitly clear. For some reason he didn’t want to. Perhaps it was the loneliness that had been eating away at him all week. </p>
<p>“A lot of people want to hear your story, Evil Xisuma,” Joe says and Evil X tenses again.</p>
<p>“I don’t want to tell it,” He snaps. </p>
<p>“I understand that,” Joe says. “I do. Really. And you don’t have to tell anyone if you don’t want to. But will you answer me just one question?”</p>
<p>Evil X thinks of telling him no. He wants to tell Joe to fuck off, get lost, and never speak to him again. Instead he sighs and says, “What?”</p>
<p>“Why not? Iskall’s told us his story. Grian’s told us his story. Even Mumbo’s started opening up about his side of things, if only a little bit.” Joe says, and Evil X twitches at the mention of Mumbo. “Why don’t you want to share yours?”</p>
<p>Evil X swallows hard, his hands shaking so much that he sets his plate of cake down, afraid he might drop it if he doesn’t. He glances at the exit again, making sure he still has a clear line of escape. </p>
<p>“…No one would believe me anyway,” he says. </p>
<p>“What makes you think that?” Joe asks. </p>
<p>“Nobody has believed a word I’ve said in three years. Why would you start now?” Evil X growls. “All anyone wants from me is a bit of cheap entertainment. I’m sick of playing along.”</p>
<p>“That’s not true,” Joe says with a frown. “We’re asking because we’re genuinely concerned.”</p>
<p>Evil X gives Joe a flat look, and Joe sighs.</p>
<p>“Do you remember how we found you?” Joe asks.</p>
<p>Evil X looks away. Truth be told, there was much about that day he didn’t remember clearly. There was even more he wishes he didn’t. He suddenly recalls breaking Joe’s glasses and glances in his direction, sees the arm he’d snapped held together with paper and slime. He ends up shrugging half-heartedly in response. </p>
<p>“Well, let me refresh your memory a little bit then,” Joe says. He doesn’t look particularly happy to be doing it. “You were tied down to a table and you were covered head to toe in blood. Besides Mumbo you were the only one who was still alive, but with how much blood was on you, you shouldn’t have been. And you were <em> afraid </em> of us. Like you thought we were going to <em> hurt </em> you. Like you’d been hurt a whole lot already.”</p>
<p>Evil X draws his knees up to his chest and squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t want to hear this. He wants to tell Joe to stop. He can’t seem to find his voice to do so.</p>
<p>“Evil Xisuma, I know Iskall’s story, I know Grian’s, and I can only imagine yours. It keeps me up at night thinking about what you went through. And you’re coping with all that pain alone.” Joe says. Evil X pictures Joe’s gentle face, and for some reason it makes his gut twist in anxiety. “I don’t want you to have to deal with it alone. None of us do. <em> That’s </em> why we’re asking.”</p>
<p>Joe wouldn’t lie to him. Not about this. It wasn’t his style. Evil X wants to believe him. Really. He does. He opens his mouth to let everything spill out, but the only thing that does is a soft wheeze. He shakes his head.</p>
<p>“I–I can’t,” He says and opens his eyes, checking that there’s still a clear path between himself and the door. There is. He stands up. “I–”</p>
<p>He’s not sure what he wants to say. That he’ll tell Joe later? That he doesn’t need help coping? That he’s sorry for wasting Joe’s time? For wasting everyone’s time?</p>
<p>“I’m sorry I broke your glasses,” He finally settles on. Before Joe can respond, he bolts out the door.</p>
<p>__</p>
<p>He’s strapped down to a quartz table. Leads bind his wrists and feet, too strong for him to break. Mumbo leans over Evil X and presses the blade to the skin under his collarbone. Evil X wants to grit his teeth against the pain, wants to deny Mumbo the satisfaction of a reaction, but he whimpers and begs Mumbo to stop. He doesn’t. </p>
<p>Evil X wakes up with a gasp alone in his cave. He pulls his knees up to his chest and sits in bed shaking until he feels the sunlight from dawn trying weakly to warm him. </p>
<p>__</p>
<p>His stomach tells him he’s hungry and he ignores it until he’s doubled over in pain, trying to catch his breath, head swimming with dizziness. He gives it steak, because that’s all he has in his cave, and in less than ten minutes it all comes back up. He lays in bed the rest of the day, shivering and sweating, and he misses Xisuma’s mushroom stew.</p>
<p>__</p>
<p>He can cope just fine on his own. He doesn’t need to talk to anyone. He doesn’t need anyone’s help. He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s <em> fine</em>.</p>
<p>The head of his axe slams against the oak tree before him and he blinks his eyes against the bark chips that are sent flying. He always used to build to relieve stress, when he was still Xisuma. If it worked then, why wouldn’t it work now? He gives the handle a tug, pulling the blade out of the wedge he’d carved into the tree block. He takes a deep breath and swings the axe at the tree again, grunting as it makes contact. He grits his teeth. See? It was working already. </p>
<p>Evil X pulls the axe free of the groove, then swings it again, then again, and again, until the tree is finally felled. He pants and wipes sweat from his forehead. Even that one block was exhausting to obtain. Part of him knows it wouldn’t be so difficult if he was taking proper care of himself. Another part of him thinks this is all Mumbo’s fault. </p>
<p>He growls and swings the axe down into the log with a thud. This was Mumbo’s fault. Not all of it, of course. He didn’t need Mumbo’s help to be friendless, lonely, and depressed. But at least before the redstone world he could sleep through the night without waking up in a panic. He could make it through the day without some innocuous little thing setting his heart racing. He could eat a single meal without feeling ill. He swings the axe again, harder this time. </p>
<p>He closes his eyes and he pictures himself strapped to a quartz table, bloody and trembling. He swings the axe. He snarls and imagines it’s Mumbo strapped to the table instead. He swings the axe. He imagines taking his axe and cleaving Mumbo in two. He swings the axe. The log splits in half. </p>
<p>He tightens his grip on the throat of the handle until his knuckles turn white. What’s stopping him? He could go there right now. He could cut Mumbo in half as easily as this log. Easier, even. He could make Mumbo hurt like Mumbo made him hurt. He could make Mumbo bleed like Mumbo made him bleed.</p>
<p>What’s stopping him? Nothing. </p>
<p>__</p>
<p>The bit of his axe scrapes along the icefield, moonlight glinting off its diamond head. His heart thumps against his rib cage with every step closer to the obsidian box he takes, as if it knows what’s about to happen and yearns for bloodshed. He places a hand over it, trying to calm it lest he lose his breath before they’ve even got there. He wonders if anyone is up there with Mumbo. His steps falter at the thought. He’d have to kill them too. He sets his jaw and adjusts the straps of his elytra. He supposes that’s just a sacrifice he’d have to make. </p>
<p>Evil X sets off a rocket and launches into the sky. He stumbles onto the roof of the box, the weight of the axe in his hands unbalancing him. He regains his footing and leaps down the chimney, gliding smoothly to a stop on the floor where he shrugs his elytra off with an echoing clatter. He stalks down the hallway towards the door, holding his breath. He opens it. </p>
<p>Mumbo is sitting alone in the dim room, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He freezes when he sees Evil X standing in the doorway. Awake and alone. Perfect. He drags the axe forward across the obsidian floor. </p>
<p>“Hello Mumbo,” he says. Mumbo leans back on his bed and swallows. Even from this distance and through the darkness Evil X can see his Adam’s apple bobbing. He imagines lodging his axe in Mumbo’s throat and his lips curl into a cruel smile.</p>
<p>“Evil Xisuma… W–What—” Mumbo stutters. “What are you doing here?”</p>
<p>“We’re going to have fun, you and I.” Evil X lets out a breathy laugh. “Do you remember that?”</p>
<p>Mumbo swallows again, and presses himself back against the wall. Evil X frowns.</p>
<p>“Answer me!” He snarls, slamming his axe on the ground for emphasis. Mumbo jumps. </p>
<p>“I do,” Mumbo says. His eyes are locked onto the axe. Evil X smiles again.</p>
<p>“I thought so,” he says. He spins the axe. “I didn’t have very much fun at all, you know. Not much fun at all. But you know what?”</p>
<p>He shifts his grip on the axe and steps closer to the bed. Mumbo presses himself against the wall even harder. It gets him nowhere.</p>
<p>“I think this time I will.” Evil X hefts the axe back and swings.</p>
<p>&gt;MumboJumbo was slain by Evil Xisuma</p>
<p>__</p>
<p>Hot blood splashes across his face as the head of his axe is embedded into Mumbo’s torso. Evil X yanks the axe free with a squelch and Mumbo gasps, the sound of it cutting off as he disappears into thin air. He reappears a moment later in the same place on his bed, panting and disheveled, but not a speck of blood on him.</p>
<p>“Was that seventeen, or eighteen?” Evil X wonders aloud. “Or maybe it was twenty-two. I just can’t remember. Oh well!”</p>
<p>Mumbo stares fearfully at Evil X, but makes no attempt at pursuing the conversation. Evil X bares his teeth at Mumbo and Mumbo cowers from him. He smiles at the reaction. “Do you remember how many times you killed me? I think I still owe you a few to make up the difference.”</p>
<p>He holds the axe over his head, intending to bring it down on Mumbo’s own like he’s splitting open a watermelon. He can’t help but giggle at the imagery. He leans forward into the next swing, but before he can even get it over his head again something grabs hold of it and rips it from his hands, pulling him back and knocking him off balance. He hears the axe clattering to the ground at the same time arms wrap around him in a bear hug that pins his arms to his sides. </p>
<p>“Iskall!” Mumbo shouts, and Evil X howls in anger and fear. He’s strapped to the table again, he doesn’t have his axe to protect himself, they’ll kill him, they’ll kill him, they’ll kill him, they’ll kill him—</p>
<p>“Let me go!” He screams, thrashing in Iskall’s grip and kicking the man’s shins as hard as he can. Evil X brings his heel down on Iskall’s toes and he hears a sharp intake of breath in his ear. Iskall tightens his hold on Evil X, and he screams even louder. <em>“Let me go!”</em></p>
<p>He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he needs to get free, he needs to or he’ll suffocate, he’ll suffocate, he’ll choke on his own blood, not again, not again, please not again—</p>
<p>Evil X sinks his teeth into Iskall’s forearm with a muffled cry and he tastes copper on his tongue. There’s another gasp from behind him and suddenly he’s being dropped to the ground. He doesn’t let go of Iskall’s arm. He hears Mumbo shout again, but his head is pounding, he can’t understand him—</p>
<p>Iskall rips his arm out of Evil X’s mouth, and before he can even register that he’s free there’s a sharp pain in his chest. He gasps, but his lungs can’t seem to hold onto the air. He looks down at himself and sees his own axe sunk in between his ribs. He gasps again, but can’t hold onto air any better than he could the first time. His gaze traces back up the handle. Mumbo is the one he finds at the end of it, staring wide-eyed with horror. He pulls the axe out of Evil X’s chest, and Evil X whimpers in pain. </p>
<p>His legs give out from under him, but he’s caught before his knees can hit the ground. Mumbo lowers him gently onto his back, his shaking fingers holding Evil X’s shoulders just a little too tightly. He whimpers again and tries to push Mumbo away. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Mumbo says, his voice high with anxiety. Evil X’s vision is getting fuzzy, but he thinks he sees tears in his eyes. “Please don’t die, please don’t die, please don’t die.”</p>
<p>He sobs, then coughs, then heaves. His lungs are heavy with blood. He doesn’t want to die again. What if he wakes up back on the table? He feels fingers intertwining with his and he grips them weakly. They squeeze back. Another sob rips its way out of his throat, turning into a coughing fit halfway out of his mouth.</p>
<p>“Please,” Mumbo begs again, and Evil X knows he’s crying for sure this time when he feels tears drip onto his face. “Please, Evil X I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for everything. Please just don’t die. <em> Please</em>.”</p>
<p>Evil X wants to respond, wants to say something, anything, but when he opens his mouth again the only thing that comes out is another bloody cough. He closes his eyes. He hears Mumbo scream his name before everything slips away.</p>
<p>__</p>
<p>Evil X awakens with a gasp on cold obsidian. His head is full of cotton and his vision swims so sickeningly that he closes his eyes almost as quickly as he opened them. He’s seen enough to know he’s not in the red lab. He relaxes for a moment, until an arm snakes under his shoulders and begins to lift him up. He gasps again in fear, but is shushed just as quickly.</p>
<p>“Sh sh sh, you’re alright,” the person holding him soothes, and Evil X relaxes again when he registers the voice as Xisuma’s. He tries to blink open his eyes again, but the immediate nausea that hits his stomach has them closed barely a second later. “Just relax for me, okay?”</p>
<p>He tries to nod, but to similar effect. “‘Kay…”</p>
<p>“Good, good…” Xisuma sighs. “Now I need you to do one more thing for me, alright?”</p>
<p>“Hmm…?”</p>
<p>He feels something cool press against his lips. He thinks it might be a potion bottle. “Open your mouth, please.”</p>
<p>He does as Xisuma asks. He feels the bottle tipping up, something liquid pouring into his mouth, and he nearly spits it out. But it’s Xisuma holding the bottle. He wouldn’t do something to hurt Evil X. He swallows it. “Easy now, easy…”</p>
<p>Xisuma keeps holding the bottle to his lips until Evil X thinks there can’t be a single drop left in it. He finally pulls it away, and Evil X hears Xisuma set it aside on the ground. “There we are… Good…”</p>
<p>His limbs feel heavy, so heavy, and he wonders what it was that Xisuma gave him. He’s so tired. Too tired to even think about it. Evil X feels Xisuma wrap his arms around him and pull him close. It hurts a little bit to breathe, being held so tightly, but he doesn’t complain. He doesn’t want Xisuma to let go. He feels something gentle against the top of his head and dully realizes it’s Xisuma, his nose and lips brushing against Evil X’s scalp.</p>
<p>“Go to sleep now, Evil X,” Xisuma says. He sniffs like he’s crying. Evil X wonders why that would be, but that’s too difficult to think about too.</p>
<p>“‘Kay…” he repeats, quieter this time. He finally allows himself to drift off as Xisuma lays him back on the cool obsidian.</p>
<p>“What… What are you going to do now?”</p>
<p>“…I can’t trust him by himself anymore. Not after this.”</p>
<p>“So… what will you do with him…?”</p>
<p>“There’s only one thing I can do.” A sigh.</p>
<p>There’s a sound like pen scratching on paper, followed by paper being shuffled around. Silence. Then, “Thank you. I appreciate that.”</p>
<p>“You’ll help with what…?”</p>
<p>Silence again. </p>
<p>“No… No! You can’t.”</p>
<p>“What other choice do I have, Mumbo? He’s a threat to your safety, to his own safety, and who knows who else if I don’t.”</p>
<p>“Look, me I understand. I get that. I do. Honest. But not Evil X. I’m begging you. Please. Give him another chance. He doesn’t deserve this.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry Mumbo. It’s just… not a risk I can take.”</p>
<p>__</p>
<p>The next time Evil X wakes up, he’s laying in bed, tucked in under the warm comforter. He blinks up at an obsidian ceiling, turns his head to see an obsidian wall. He jolts up and looks at the ground, finding more obsidian. He turns to the opposite wall to see Xisuma standing in front of an iron door. His brows are knit together with anxiety. There’s no one else in the box.</p>
<p>“Xisuma…?” Evil X asks. “Where is everyone…? Where’s… Mumbo?”</p>
<p>“Mumbo isn’t here,” Xisuma says. Evil X feels his heart skip a beat.</p>
<p>“Why not?”</p>
<p>Xisuma sighs. “This isn’t his box, Evil X.”</p>
<p>Evil X digs his fingers into the comforter. “What do you mean, it’s not his box?”</p>
<p>Xisuma closes his eyes. “It’s yours.”</p>
<p>Evil X lets out a sharp laugh and shakes his head in disbelief. “No… No, you’re…. you’re joking.”</p>
<p>“I’m not joking,” Xisuma says firmly, opening his eyes to level Evil X with a glare. “You killed Mumbo, Evil X. Do you remember? You killed him <em> twenty-eight times </em> before Iskall managed to get up there to stop you. And then you <em> bit </em> Iskall. You <em> bit him </em> and you didn’t let go until—”</p>
<p>Xisuma pauses to suck in a breath. “Mumbo had to <em> kill you </em> to get you to let go.”</p>
<p>Xisuma shakes his head and huffs. “Do you even know what kind of a state that left him in? We’re lucky we managed to calm him down before <em> you </em> woke up. But that…”</p>
<p>Xisuma goes silent, but Evil X understands the implication. Mumbo was working through his traumas too, because what happened in the redstone world was a trauma for all of them. And Mumbo, who had killed Evil X who knows how many times while they were there, had to do it again to protect his friend. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Evil X says. His voice is barely above a whisper.</p>
<p>“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” Xisuma responds. He turns away, turns for the door. </p>
<p>“W-wait,” Evil X stutters. “You’re not leaving are you?”</p>
<p>“I can’t stay here all day, Evil X. I have things I need to do.”</p>
<p>Evil X feels his breath hitch. “No. Please. Stay. Please.”</p>
<p>“I <em> can’t </em>.” Xisuma says, and he sounds pained. “You’ll have to get on without me for awhile.”</p>
<p>Evil X shakes his head, his fingers trembling. “N-No… I can’t… please…”</p>
<p>Xisuma opens the door and steps through it quickly. Evil X leaps to his feet, throws himself at the door, but he’s not fast enough. He slams against it with a yelp and falls to his hands and knees. “Xisuma! Please! Please don’t leave me here! Please! I’m sorry!”</p>
<p>Xisuma doesn’t respond. Evil X isn’t even sure he’s still there. He bites back a sob.</p>
<p>“Please… Xisuma… don’t leave me here alone…”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that, my friends, marks the end of Act 1! Thanks for reading. Act 2 will start next Tuesday, June 30th. If you're so inclined, you can follow me on Tumblr at sprucewoodcottage for more Hermitcraft. c:</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. At Bedrock Bottom</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Evil X comes to terms with his new living arrangements.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Listen. It's still June 30th in a very small section of the world. In defense of my late chapter, I spent all day sitting at a car dealership waiting to get an auto loan approved because someone (not naming any names) totaled their car on Friday.</p>
<p>...I'm okay, by the way. Nothing injured but my pride. </p>
<p>Chapter Warnings:<br/>self-harm, fingernail trauma, self-mutilation, graphic descriptions of gore, panic attacks.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Evil X sucks on his bleeding fingers, tears stinging his eyes. He doesn’t know how long he’s been trapped in this cage. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since Xisuma abandoned him here. How long he spent pounding on the door until his knuckles split, clawing at the walls until his fingers bled, screaming until his voice was raw. Surely Xisuma would be back soon. He wouldn’t leave Evil X here alone forever. Would he?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wouldn’t, he tells himself firmly. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And when he did come back—because he was coming back, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span>—Evil X would be ready for him. He was sitting beside the door and when Xisuma came he’d escape. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t know where he’ll go. Xisuma has certainly told everyone what he’d done by now, if they hadn’t read the notifications themselves. He would have to leave the island behind. He would have to leave his cave behind. He would have to leave it all behind. His heart hurts when he realizes that means he would have to leave the bakery and its cake behind too. He supposes once he’s found someplace to settle down he could always learn to make it himself. That’s something to look forward to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X hears a noise outside of his little cage and pops his fingers out of his mouth. He leans closer to the door, listening carefully. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evil X,” Xisuma sighs, his voice muffled. “I know you’re sitting by the door.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X says nothing. He holds his breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Move to the bed, Evil X,” Xisuma says. “I’m not opening this door until you do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He remains silent. Maybe Xisuma will think he’s already escaped and come in to investigate. After a moment he hears another sigh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be difficult, now. I’ll leave and we can try this again another day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X feels a stab of panic and scrambles to his feet. “Don’t! Please! I’ll go! I’ll go!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then get going.” Xisuma says shortly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X scurries to the bed, tripping over his own feet on the way. “Please come in!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watches Xisuma watching him through the window of the door and he digs his fingers into his comforter, wincing slightly in pain. Xisuma blinks and finally opens the door, stepping into the room. Evil X lets out a relieved breath, ducking his head away from Xisuma’s concerned gaze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma’s feet step into view and a moment later Evil X feels him pulling his fingers away from the blanket. He sighs again. “What have you done to yourself, Evil X?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry…” he whispers, because he doesn't know what else to say. His bloody fingertips were just another way he'd fucked up. Another reason to keep him locked away in this prison. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma sits beside him, hand still gently holding his. Evil X continues to stare at the ground. “No…. I'm sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That finally gets him to raise his head, turning to give Xisuma a curious look. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn't want to do this,” Xisuma says, motioning around at the obsidian walls with his free hand. With his other, he strokes a thumb over Evil X’s fingers, careful to avoid touching the scabs on his knuckles or his broken fingernails. “I knew you wouldn't take it well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Evil X lets out a weak laugh. That was an understatement, to say the least. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“…Have you eaten yet?” Xisuma asks, glancing at the chest placed at the foot of the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hasn't, but in his defense he had been preoccupied with other thoughts in the time since Xisuma left.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma is staring at him expectantly. He would be disappointed in Evil X if he knew the truth. He'd be even more disappointed if he found out Evil X was lying. He shakes his head. Xisuma furrows his brow with worry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should eat something then,” he says and he lets go of Evil X’s hand, turning to open the chest. “I know you think you're invincible but you aren't. You need to eat just like the rest of us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don't think that,” Evil X says, his voice still rough like sandpaper. Xisuma pulls a bowl of beetroot soup out of the chest and turns to give Evil X an incredulous look. Evil X ducks his head again. “It makes me feel sick. It makes me feel like…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thinks back to that day at the icefield, when everyone was building the first obsidian box. He thinks of the bread and potatoes Xisuma brought him. He had scarfed it all down without a thought of how his poor stomach, weak from starvation, would handle it. It hadn't handled it well. It hadn’t handled it any better when it was steak, alone in his cave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just don't like to…” he says instead. He wishes he would have just kept his mouth shut altogether.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma is silent for a moment. Then, quietly, “We’ll take it slow, then. Just a little bit for now, alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X hesitates. His stomach churns. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, Evil X. Just a little bit, that’s all I’m asking. Will you eat for me?” Xisuma asks gently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X grits his teeth and takes the bowl. “Fine…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ladles a small spoonful to his mouth and sips. He’d thought beetroot soup was marginally better than mushroom stew. Now, he changes his mind. He’d rather have mushroom stew than this. He makes a face at the flavor and Xisuma gives him a pointed look, so he takes a few more sips of broth before holding the bowl away from himself. Xisuma takes it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Xisuma says, though he sounds upset all the same. He puts the bowl back into the food chest. Evil X resists the urge to tell him to just toss the disgusting stuff out. “Please try to take better care of yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll try…” Evil X says. Xisuma’s eyes crinkle with a smile and he turns to give the small room an appraising look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Goodness me, you could use a clock in here,” he says. Evil X silently agrees. Without any way to tell time his cage feels that much more like the red lab. He’s still not even sure how long it had been since Xisuma left him here. It could have been hours. It could have been days. “I’ll bring one the next time I come to see you, how does that sound?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X nods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll bring your helmet too. Almost forgot about that.” Xisuma adds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X’s heart misses a beat. “I don’t want it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not?” Xisuma asks, tilting his head curiously. “I know you haven’t been wearing it lately, but…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um.” How does he explain that having the helmet on made him feel like he couldn’t breathe? That the retention system even brushing his throat made him feel like he was choking on blood? He holds a shaky hand up in front of his neck. “It. It hurts. Here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma stares at him, his eyes piercing in a way that makes Evil X squirm. He recognized that look after being on the receiving end of it from so many of the hermits. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“…What happened while you were in that world?” Xisuma asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s nothing,” Evil X answers reflexively. The response is so rehearsed that he barely has to think about it. “Forget I said anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evil X…” Xisuma sighs. Then he clenches his fists. Evil X can’t help but shrink away from him. Now he's done it. They were getting along so well a minute ago. Now he's gone and ruined that too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t keep pretending that you’re okay. That nothing happened and you’re getting on just fine. You aren’t fine. You used to eat fine. You used to wear your helmet fine. But this,” Xisuma holds up a hand, motioning around at the obsidian surrounding them. “is not fine! None of it is!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“S-Sorry…” Evil X says quietly. He’s not sure what else Xisuma wants to hear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you won’t open up to the other hermits, will you at least open up to me?” Xisuma asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X turns his gaze to his lap. Xisuma already knew the truth about him. He would believe him. Even still, when he opens his mouth to speak, he finds the words caught in his throat. He’d really rather just forget the redstone world happened at all. Wouldn’t that be easier?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“…Alright,” Xisuma says finally, a note of dejection in his voice. “Alright. We’ll talk about it later.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma stands and Evil X feels like his chest is being crushed in a vice. “You aren't leaving are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stands up too, reaches out for Xisuma’s hand, but Xisuma pulls away before he can grab him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X falters, lets his hand drop back to his side. “Please don't go…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I'm sorry, Evil X… I have to.” Xisuma says. “I won't be gone long, though, alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, that wasn't good enough. He didn't want to be alone at all, for any amount of time. Evil X shakes his head and whimpers. “Stay…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can't.” Xisuma says. He turns for the door and Evil X starts to follow. He opens his mouth to argue, but Xisuma cuts him off before he can speak, his hand twitching towards his pocket. “Don't! Go sit back down on the bed Evil X.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X flinches, but doesn’t move. “Please stay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t ask again, Evil X. Sit down.” Xisuma says, his shaking hand still close to his pocket. Evil X doesn’t care what he has in there. He doesn’t want Xisuma to leave. He takes a step closer. In a flash Xisuma pulls two bottles out of his pocket and tosses them down at Evil X’s feet. Immediately his limbs feel weak, his movement slowed. He takes another step towards Xisuma, but he stumbles and falls to his hands and knees, yelping when they crack against the obsidian. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hears the latch on the door quietly clicking and looks up to see Xisuma through the window. “Xisuma!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be back soon. I promise.” Xisuma says, his voice muffled by the door once again. Evil X cries out for him, but he’s already gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>__</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X stares at the clump of hair clutched between his shaking fingers. His scalp aches. He doesn’t remember tearing it out. Pulling, yes, but tearing? At some point his memory cuts out. It doesn’t concern him all that much. The pain would be gone soon. His hair would grow back. Slowly he unclenches his hand, turns it upside down and lets the hair fall away. He wipes the rest off on his pants.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighs and looks up. Still in the box. Still alone. He’s sitting in the corner by the door again, the only place he feels comfortable being, like a prison within his prison. His head aches and he reaches up to touch it. His fingers come away bloody. Apparently it wasn’t too long ago that he tore his hair out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stares at the red smear on his fingers and considers how long it would take for the wound to knit back together. How long it would take for his hair to grow again. His tired mind wanders back to the red lab. To every slice of the knife across his skin and muscles and organs. Unlike with Iskall and Grian, Mumbo always put him back together when he was done, enough for his wounds to heal up so he would be ready for another round. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X tilts his head curiously as he considers the blood on his hand. He’s not even sure he would heal if Mumbo </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> taken his limbs off. Certainly there had to be limitations to it. He’d never experienced that sort of dismemberment before, and never been deranged enough to try. That was something only a deranged person would think about, wasn’t it? Then again, he was in this cage precisely </span>
  <em>
    <span>because</span>
  </em>
  <span> he was deranged, wasn’t he?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shakes the thought from his head. No. He couldn’t do this. He didn’t have any tools to try. Why bother wondering about it? He wipes his hand on his pants again, but the blood has dried too much to come off. He sighs and pops his fingers into his mouth, letting his saliva clean them, and his breath hitches when his knuckles scrape against his teeth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe he has the tools after all. He pulls his fingers back out of his mouth. They’re still wet with saliva and he curls his lip at them. They aren’t exactly thin, but he’s fairly certain they aren’t too thick to bite through either. The biggest hurdle would be that he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>biting his own finger off</span>
  </em>
  <span> and that is absolutely, definitely, most certainly deranged. If Xisuma caught him doing it he’d never get out of his cage. He’s not entirely sure he will anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X holds up his left hand and examines it. Probably better to try this on a hand he won’t miss the fingers from as much, just in case. He flexes each finger as he considers his choices. His thumb would be the easiest to fit in his mouth, but it’s also the one with the greatest utility. Probably best to keep that one attached. He used his index and middle fingers nearly as much as his thumb. His ring finger might not be such a bad choice, but he can’t guarantee he wouldn’t gag on it. That left only one choice, really. He wiggles his pinky finger and gives it a sympathetic look. It didn’t even know what was coming.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without a second more of hesitation, Evil X slides his pinky between his teeth. He grabs his wrist with his other hand to keep himself steady and grimaces as his wet fingers slide across his skin. He grinds his teeth gently against his pinky. It’ll be easy. So easy. Just pretend it’s not his finger between his teeth and it won’t be hard at all. Like biting into a fresh carrot. Evil X closes his eyes. He needs to get on with it, before he chickens out. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the count of three, then? Yeah, that sounded good.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Three.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>__</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In retrospect, maybe biting his own finger off wasn’t the greatest idea he’d ever had.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>__</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It won’t stop bleeding. The stub where his pinky was won’t stop bleeding. Evil X sucks in a shuddering breath and releases it as a sob. His hands are slick with blood that won’t stop flowing and he’s shaking, he’s shaking so much, a mix of the adrenaline in his veins and sobs raking his shoulders. Forget deranged, he was just plain </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X tries to tighten his grip on the little stub, but his fingers are too slippery to hold on. He pulls his hands close to his chest, curling in on himself. Could he bleed out through such a little thing? The idea of dying again, dying from </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> made his breath hitch with another sob. So fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hands on his shoulders make him jump and gasp. He presses himself into the corner away from them until he hears Xisuma’s frantic voice. “Evil X?! What happened?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He whimpers and his breath hitches again. That was the absolute last thing he wanted to explain, but he feels his vision getting fuzzy, feels his head getting dizzy, and he’s scared. “B-Bit it o-off. M-My fin-finger.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You did </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Xisuma nearly shouts. Evil X holds his hands closer to his chest, but Xisuma takes his own off Evil X’s shoulders. He grabs Evil X’s blood-slick hands instead and pulls them away from his body to examine them. “Heaven’s sake, Evil X…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“J-Just. Cu-Curious.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Curious about what?!” Xisuma demands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If i-it’d heal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For crying out loud, Evil X, you’re not a lizard!” Xisuma says, and he sounds almost as hysterical as Evil X feels.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma looks around for a moment before standing and rushing to the bed, ripping the blanket off the mattress and dragging it back to Evil X. He grabs hold of Evil X’s hand again and presses the blanket against his pinky stub, putting pressure on it. Evil X yelps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know how we’re going to fix this one, Evil X…” Xisuma says. His grip on Evil X’s hand tightens as he speaks, and the weight of what he’d done finally sinks in. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>bit his finger off.</span>
  </em>
  <span> His own damn finger with his own damn teeth. All this time blaming Mumbo when it was his own fucking teeth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A thought strikes him, and he blinks. Calm washes over him. “M-my eyes…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My eyes! M-Mumbo, in the redstone world, he cut out my eyes! But he put them back and they healed! Maybe… Maybe if…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma nods in understanding. “Right! Right. But how will we…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“W-We could… sew it…” Evil X says, despite having no idea where they would even get the necessary materials for such a task.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve got it!” Xisuma exclaims, leaping to his feet. “Can you keep pressure on that by yourself? Just for a minute?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X feels a pang of fear in his chest, but he nods. “I can…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t leave. I promise.” Xisuma says. Evil X nods again. The promise is only mildly reassuring.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cleo, do you have a minute? I need your help.” Xisuma says. Evil X blinks in confusion until he realizes that Xisuma must be using speech-to-text.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“At my base. In the box.” Xisuma continues. “Bring your medical supplies.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma glances at Evil X again, and Evil X stares back. “Can you bring a bucket of water, too?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>__</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma sits back down with Evil X while they wait for Cleo, holding the ruined blanket against his pinky stub when his own strength starts to falter. His eyes begin to feel heavy as the adrenaline finishes running its course, and he rests his head on Xisuma’s shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lets his eyes drift close. This is usually the part in the movies when someone starts begging him to stay awake just a little while longer, he thinks. Even with respawning there was still some risk to dying. But then again, the stakes weren’t all that high for someone who would just wake up again later if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> die, were they? There were some perks to being immortal after all, he supposes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinks awake at the sound of the door opening, some part of him afraid that Xisuma’s leaving again, but no, Xisuma’s still sitting beside him staunching his bleeding finger. Cleo is standing over the both of them, a serious look on her face. In one hand she has her medical kit and in the other a bucket of water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened?” she asks, and she sounds just like a real doctor assessing her patient’s health. Evil X can’t help but snort.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I bit my finger off,” he says, voice thick with half-formed sleep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cleo blinks. “I’m sorry, you… what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He bit his finger off, Cleo, and we’d like you to reattach it if you’re able,” Xisuma says before Evil X can repeat himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cleo stares at them both incredulously for a moment. “I… </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> do that, yes, but I don’t think that—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just try. Please?” Xisuma says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cleo sighs. “Alright, but don’t get upset with me if this doesn’t work like you’re thinking it will.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sets the bucket and medical kit down and kneels beside Evil X, taking his injured hand from Xisuma to assess the damage. The bloody stub is uncovered and Evil X glances away. This was going to work. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> to work. He didn't know what he would do if it didn't.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cleo opens up her medical kit and begins preparing her sutures, and as she does Xisuma grabs the bucket of water, pulling it close. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What's the bucket for?” Evil X asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You're covered in blood, Evil X,” Xisuma says as he pulls a sponge out of the water, squeezing it out with one hand. “I'm going to clean your face first, alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright…” Evil X says. He's not sure why Xisuma would need to clean his face at all, until he presses the damp sponge to Evil X’s chin and he remembers that his teeth were a key component in his plan. Still, he can't help but wrinkle his nose and groan at the pampering. He'd really rather Xisuma wait to do this until after his finger was reattached so he could get back to napping. He didn't need to be conscious for the procedure did he? He certainly hoped not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you get his hand next?” Cleo asks without looking up from her supplies. “I'll need a clean canvas for this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma swipes the sponge over Evil X’s chin one last time before dipping it back in the bucket. Evil X rests his head against Xisuma’s shoulder again, closing his eyes. He hears Xisuma squeeze the sponge out over the bucket. He feels Xisuma take his hand again, feels the sponge against his skin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evil X?” Xisuma asks. He wonders if Xisuma is checking that he’s still awake. “Can I ask you something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm…?” Evil X hums. The sponge is cool on his skin, and he can’t help but shiver. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Earlier, you said that Mumbo… cut your eyes out.” Xisuma says, and his whole body goes rigid. He hears Cleo pause. “That’s… the most you’ve told me about the redstone world. It’s the most you’ve told anyone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That's not a question.” Evil X says quietly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You also told me yesterday that you stopped wearing your helmet because it… </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurts</span>
  </em>
  <span> your neck. Is that… also because of something that happened there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His instincts scream at him to deny it, but what good would it do him now? What good had it ever done him? Xisuma knows about his eyes and now Cleo does too. How could he pretend there was nothing to talk about with that knowledge out there? Should he ever have been pretending to begin with?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes a deep breath, swallows a lump in his throat, and nods. The silence left behind at the admission is near deafening, and Evil X finally opens his eyes. Cleo is staring at him, brows furrowed sympathetically, and he immediately glances away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mumbo… He…” Evil X starts, but the words catch, the memory too difficult to give voice to, so he holds his good hand up in front of his throat and mimes cutting. “Th-That’s how he killed me. The first time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something inside him snaps, and with a shaky intake of air, he continues. “He d-didn’t always kill me. He just… over and over and over… always cutting me open… and pulling me apart… and putting me back together… a-and…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s cut off by hands gently grasping his, and he blinks, let’s his eyes focus on Cleo’s face in front of his. “Evil X, sweetie, I need you to calm down. You’re shaking too much. I won’t be able to reattach your finger like this. Thank you for sharing that with us, though. Doesn’t it feel better?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X nods. It does. It feels like someone let the pressure off in his head. He didn’t even realize how much pressure there was. Now that he’s started he doesn’t want to stop. But he wants his finger back more, so he takes a deep breath and tries to calm down, tries to think of anything else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Once we’ve got your finger taken care of,” Cleo says. “why don’t you tell me more? We can start from the beginning. How does that sound?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X nods again. Cleo pats his hand one last time before she lets go to grab her sutures. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>__</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t end up getting to tell Cleo the rest of his story after all. Evil X squeezes his eyes shut when Xisuma presents her with his dismembered finger, focuses on keeping his breathing even when he feels the needle pierce his skin. He falls asleep from exhaustion soon after, and when he next wakes he’s tucked into bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rolls over to glance around the darkened room, and is startled by movement at the end of the bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Finally awake?” Xisuma asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You stayed…” Evil X responds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“…Yeah. I stayed.” Xisuma says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“…I wanted to make sure you’d be alright.” Xisuma says. He lights a torch and places it above the bed. Evil X blinks at the sudden light, pulling an arm out from under the covers to shield his eyes. Xisuma laughs quietly. “Sorry. Should’ve warned you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What time is it…?” Evil X says with a yawn.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t you see for yourself?” Xisuma says, motioning to the wall. Evil X cranes his neck to look and sees a clock. It’s somewhere past midnight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sits up on his elbows. “When’d that get there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I put it up while you were sleeping,” Xisuma says. “Surprise!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite the sleep fog that clings to his brain, seeing the clock makes him relax a fraction. Some anxious part of him falls quiet knowing he won’t ever be without the time again even in his prison.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was going to show you earlier, but, well…” Xisuma trails off before clearing his throat. “Anyway, I hope you like it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not as much as you liked my surprise, I bet…” Evil X mumbles wryly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma snorts. “C’mon now, don’t joke about that!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You laughed,” Evil X says with a slight smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>snorted</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’s different.” Xisuma says, but there’s a smile in his voice as well. “You’re in an awfully good mood.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Slept good…” Evil X says with another yawn. It was perhaps the first good sleep he’d had since returning to the overworld. He pushes himself the rest of the way up and winces at a twinge in his left hand. He lifts it off the mattress to examine his finger in the light. It’s attached, there’s no denying that, but Cleo’s work is hidden beneath a bandage. He tries to bend it, but a sharp pain at the base of it stops him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Be careful,” Xisuma says. “It’s still healing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But it worked…” Evil X says. He lets out a sigh of relief. “It worked.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It did,” Xisuma confirms, patting Evil X’s knee. “Try not to do anything like that again. Please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll try,” Evil X says. “But I’m not promising anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Suppose that’s the best I can ask for.” Xisuma sighs. He squeezes Evil X’s knee again before letting go. “You should get some more rest. It’s still late.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X feels his heart sink. “Are you going to leave now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d like to get a little rest myself, Evil X,” Xisuma says. “but… if you’d like me to stay…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He would. He so desperately would. But Xisuma looks so tired. Evil X looks down at his lap. He blinks. The blanket covering him isn’t his own. His was soaked through with blood now, he recalls. This was Xisuma’s. He feels tears in his eyes and tries to blink them away. Xisuma has already done so much for him. What has he done for Xisuma?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opens his mouth to tell Xisuma he should go, but the words won’t come. He shakes his head minutely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evil X…?” Xisuma asks. “I can stay with you tonight. I don’t mind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma is staring expectantly, and Evil X ducks his head. He doesn’t want to make this decision. He knows he won’t choose correctly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Scoot over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?” Evil X looks up, brow furrowed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Scoot over,” Xisuma repeats. “I’ll sleep here. There’s enough room for us both.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But…” Evil X protests.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No buts,” Xisuma says firmly. “You have my blanket anyway. I’d get cold if I went to my own bed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X blinks and moves close to the wall, giving Xisuma space to lay down beside him. He feels warmth in his chest, and bites his lip against a smile. “Alright... If you insist.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma takes his helmet off, sets it on top of the food chest and then lays down beside Evil X. Evil X shifts, trying to find the least uncomfortable position squished between the obsidian wall and Xisuma. He doesn’t find much luck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> enough room for us both,” he grumbles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma rolls his eyes. “Here, let’s try this, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma wiggles his arm under Evil X’s side and pulls him close, until his head is resting on Xisuma’s chest. He feels immediately at ease being wrapped in Xisuma’s warm embrace, no longer pressed against cool obsidian. “Oh…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There, that’s better, isn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X nods. He closes his eyes and relaxes against Xisuma. “Thank you. For staying with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I already told you,” Xisuma says, his hand rubbing Evil X’s back gently. “I’ll always stay.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading. c: Next chapter will be out Tuesday, July 7th, assuming I don't wreck any more vehicles before then (God, please, don't wreck any more vehicles).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Crying Over Spilled Milk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Evil X finally begins to open up.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It turns out I'm going to be out of the house for most of tomorrow and knowing me I will absolutely forget to post this before I leave to do my errands, so congratulations, a early chapter!</p><p>Fun fact! I wrote a good chunk of this chapter in a tiny notebook while working at a bank instead of, y'know. Working. (I no longer work at a bank, for reasons unrelated to the amount of fanfiction I wrote on the clock.) </p><p>Chapter Warnings:<br/>panic attacks</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The iron door clicks open, and Evil X wraps his arms around Xisuma tighter. He cracks open an eye and in the doorway he sees Cleo. Xisuma stretches and yawns and turns to the door as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well isn't this sweet,” Cleo says, an amused smile on her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, be quiet,” Xisuma says. He sits up and Evil X is pushed up along with him. He whines. “Don't you start too!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evil X whines again. “I'm sleeping.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are not,” Xisuma says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cleo clears her throat. “Boys. I hate to interrupt the bickering, but I'm here to see my patient?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That's you, Evil X,” Xisuma says cheerfully. Evil X glowers at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never would have guessed,” he grumbles, finally sitting up fully. He holds his hand out and Cleo crosses the room. She takes his hand in hers, unwrapping the bandage from his pinky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinks. “It’s… healed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evil X bends the finger and finds it no longer accompanied by pain. The stitches are the only sign that there was ever anything wrong with it. He grimaces as he realizes they’ll need to be removed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s healed,” he confirms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cleo stares at it, as if trying to spot where reality ends and illusion begins. She turns his hand over, then turns it back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, would you look at that,” Xisuma says, peering at Evil X’s finger from over Cleo’s shoulder. “Just like you said.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He picks up his helmet from where he left it on the chest last night and dons it. He glances away, checking his notifications most likely, and after a moment says, “Goodness me! Is that really the time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evil X glances up at the clock. 10AM. Xisuma usually liked to get an early start to the day, much earlier than this. His heart sinks at the thought. Xisuma gives him an apologetic glance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you be alright if I leave? I have some things I need to do, but…” Xisuma says, as if sensing Evil X’s anxiety. Evil X hesitates to respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, he thinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xisuma doesn’t move, just stares at Evil X, searching him for the truth. Evil X stubbornly meets his gaze. Xisuma couldn’t babysit him forever. He had to accept that eventually. The sooner he did, the sooner he could get over it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…Alright,” Xisuma says finally. “If you’re sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure,” Evil X responds with a confidence he doesn’t feel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be back later. Shouldn’t be too late.” Xisuma reassures, though his voice still holds reluctance. “Cleo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t wait up for me,” she says, still examining Evil X’s finger with a furrowed brow. “I’m going to be awhile.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow the idea of being left alone with Cleo does nothing to ease his anxiety. He had always found her to be a bit intimidating, and the look on her face was doing nothing to help with that perception of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go easy on him,” Xisuma teases. Of course he would know all about Evil X’s feelings towards Cleo. It was another thing the two of them shared, although Evil X thinks it was perhaps worse for him now that he was no longer a friend of the hermits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glares at Xisuma. Xisuma’s eyes crinkle with a cheeky grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t promise anything,” Cleo says dryly, and Xisuma chuckles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see you later Cleo. Evil X.” he says. Then he goes, leaving only silence behind. Cleo’s eyes continue to glare at Evil X’s finger. Her gaze is so sharp he can almost feel his teeth sinking into his flesh again. He shifts in discomfort. It feels like an eternity before she finally releases his hand. He drops it into the safety of his lap as soon as he’s free. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cleo turns away from him, and begins rummaging through her medical kit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…I know what you are,” Cleo says after a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evil X’s heart tries to crawl up his throat, and he swallows it back down. “What am I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a reaper,” she says. “Aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t answer. His voice won’t cooperate. Cleo turns her head to glance at him, and he has to fight his every instinct to shrink away from her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you?” she repeats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evil X clears his throat. When he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper. “How did you figure it out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly,” she says with a derisive huff of air. “I’m embarrassed I didn’t figure it out sooner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evil X squeezes his eyes shut. His head is spinning. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>How did you figure it out?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evil X hears a sigh from Cleo. Then, “Zombies don’t come from nothing, Evil X. They come from people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t thought about it like that before. He hadn’t ever had to consider it. When the hermits brought Xisuma back, it had only been a few hours after he’d died. Maybe less. If it took longer, though…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You died.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I died,” Cleo says. “And I stayed that way for a long time. Long enough that when I was finally brought back, well… My body hadn’t exactly stayed in tip top shape in the meantime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…You’ve met a reaper,” he says. He finally opens his eyes, meets her gaze. She looks wistful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have. And that’s why I should have known sooner.” she says. “Admittedly, you’ve made yourself pretty scarce ever since you arrived. It’s hard to put a puzzle together when you don’t have all the pieces.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you,” Evil X says, his voice breaking on the words. His vision begins to blur as tears fill his eyes. He tries to blink them away, but it only makes it worse. “I told you all, but nobody believed me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Cleo says. She looks away again. “I know, and I’m sorry. I should have believed you. You were telling the truth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was telling the truth,” he repeats desperately. “I was telling the truth!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were,” Cleo agrees in a soothing tone. “I believe you now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was telling the truth…” he says again quietly. He rubs at his eyes with the palms of his hands, biting back the sobs he feels building in his throat. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Cleo. Wasn’t it bad enough that she’d already witnessed one of his panic attacks? So many of the hermits have now. A sharp bark of laughter escapes him at the thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Evil X,” Cleo says softly, and he feels her rest a gentle hand on his knee. “It’s alright to be upset. We haven’t been very good friends to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Friends…?” he says, finally pulling his hands away from his face to look at Cleo. “We’re friends?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you still want to be,” she says. “Then yes. We’re friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods. Cleo smiles ever so slightly and moves to sit beside him on the bed. “Do you know what friends do for each other, Evil X?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another laugh forces its way out of his throat. It’s such a juvenile question, yet he finds he doesn’t know the answer. How long has it been since he’s given the very concept of friendship any consideration? He never thought it was something he would have again. He shakes his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They listen,” she says. “And they believe each other. You were going to tell me about the redstone world yesterday. If you’re still up for that, then I’ll listen, and I’ll believe you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods again. “I… I want to. I want to tell you about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She squeezes his knee, and it reminds him so much of Xisuma that he can’t help but relax at the touch. “Let’s start with how you got there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallows, takes a deep breath, and he starts from the beginning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>__</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evil X feels jittery with energy, yet is entirely too exhausted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s barely been two hours since he started telling Cleo about the redstone world, but he feels ready for another solid night’s sleep. He started from the very beginning, from the moment he decided to step through the portal, all the while Cleo sat beside him and listened, offering him comfort when the story became too hard to tell, giving him space when it felt too real, and reminding him that she believed every word he was saying when it seemed too unbelievable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands continue to shake now, even after he’s finished relaying everything up to the moment they found him, but he doesn’t want to stop. He wants to start right over from the beginning and tell it all to her again. It’s as if he’s had a noose around his neck, and he’s finally managed to loosen the knot, finally managed to breathe. He wants to scream to the whole world that he can finally breathe. He also wants to take a hundred year nap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He decides on a compromise, and rests his head against the obsidian wall, closing his eyes. “I… killed Mumbo twenty-eight times. Did you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… was aware, yes,” she says. Of course she knew. Everyone must have, whether it was from reading the notifications or being told by Xisuma. They would be wondering why he had an ugly obsidian box over his base if he didn’t explain the situation to them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His stomach churns. He hates the idea that he was being talked about, that what he did was being talked about. He might have Xisuma and now Cleo, but everyone else? Some of them had wanted to give up on Mumbo when they’d first brought him back from the redstone world. How many of them would want to give up on him now too?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought it’d make me feel better,” he says. “If I just… make him feel how I felt. I thought it’d fix me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Evil X…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And it felt so good at the time!” He feels more laughter building up inside. He tries to suppress it, but it slips free anyway. “He was so scared and I… I enjoyed it. And then he killed me and I… It was self defense and I deserved it but I… I bit Iskall… I killed Mumbo… I could have… I could have killed him permanently. I never even thought about it. Any one of those deaths could have been his last and it would have been my fault and… and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Evil X, look at me,” Cleo says. He obeys, although it isn’t without hesitance. How much could he admit to before Cleo decided she actually didn’t want to be his friend? Maybe he shouldn’t have brought this up. Maybe he shouldn’t have told her anything at all. Maybe— “What you did, Evil X? It wasn’t right. But you can’t dwell on it forever. You made a mistake, but you made it because you were in pain. You lashed out because you weren’t dealing with your pain. You’re dealing with it now, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods. That’s why everyone had been needling him to talk, wasn’t it? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are,” Cleo agrees. “And we can work to make sure you don’t make a mistake like that again. But you can’t change the past. You can’t change what you already did. You can only work to avoid doing something else like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I… it feels so bad,” he says. “How do I make it stop feeling so bad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Cleo says. “You could always apologize.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apologize…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To Mumbo. For killing him,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But he… he killed me first,” Evil X protests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not having this conversation because he killed you first, Evil X. We’re having it because you feel bad about how you reacted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens his mouth to protest further, but Cleo cuts him off before he can. “At the end of the day, Evil X, you can't control what Mumbo does. You're only responsible for yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's only responsible for himself. He mouths the words to himself. The shape of them is strange, uncomfortable, yet it seems as if the knot of his noose loosens just a bit more at them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How… how do I… I can't leave. I'm stuck here.” He says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could write him a letter,” Cleo suggests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could…” he says. “ I could write him a letter…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cleo gives him another slight smile and pulls her communicator from her pocket. “I can ask Xisuma to get you some paper, if you’d like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evil X nods. “Yes. I want paper.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cleo’s already typing away when he adds, “And a pen. I’ll need a pen, too. So I can write.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paper… and… a… pen…” Cleo says as she types, then she gives the screen one final tap and sets the device aside. “Alright. Message sent. Now, there is something else we need to do before I leave, Evil X.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evil X tries to ignore the pang in his chest at the word ‘leave’, instead furrowing his brow as he considers what she could be talking about. “What’s that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glances down at his hand. “We need to remove those stitches. Before they cause any weird complications.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks down at the stitches in question and grimaces. “Yeah… alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stitches come out with little problem, much to Evil X’s relief. He steadfastly refuses to watch, and can’t help the occasional twitch as he feels Cleo pulling them out of his skin. The tiny wounds they leave behind heal nearly as fast as they were opened, but despite this Evil X feels Cleo wrapping a bandage around his pinky. When he turns to look, he sees bright neon green around his finger, with little yellow flowers and pink hearts dotting the surface. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A bandage to make your boo-boo all better,” Cleo says. “I can kiss it better for you too if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sarcasm is evident in her voice, but the offer is so amusing he can’t help but lift his hand up. She takes it and brings his finger to her lips, placing a delicate kiss featherlight against the bandage. He snorts and ducks his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is stupid,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it feel better?” Cleo asks. Somehow he gets the feeling she doesn’t just mean his finger. His lips curl into a slight smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he admits. A lot of things feel better. The weight on his shoulders wasn’t so heavy now that he wasn’t bearing it alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then it doesn’t matter if it’s stupid or not,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>__</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evil X sits on the floor next to his bed, tapping pen against paper in thought. Xisuma had come and gone, bringing with him the requested notebook and pen, and, more excitingly, a cake made specially for him by Scar. He’d eaten half of it in one sitting before realizing he had no idea when he might get another and set it aside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he was trying to draft a letter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How did one write an apology?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thinks. He writes it down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouldn’t he at least specify what he’s saying sorry for? He puts the pen back to the paper and adds, </span>
  <em>
    <span>for killing you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grimaces. As if he’d only killed Mumbo once.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>28 times.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He writes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry for killing you 28 times. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Awful. He groans and tears the page out of his book, crumpling it up and tossing it across the room. Just awful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was going to take awhile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>__</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span> tell me I didn’t buy you that notebook just so you could tear it up,” Xisuma’s voice says, pulling Evil X from sleep. He lifts his head off the notebook, blinking and yawning and wondering how he’d even managed to fall asleep hunched over the thing. “Did you sleep like that all night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess?” Evil X responds, peeling the notebook page away from his face. The words he’d written are slightly smeared from being pressed against his cheek all night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’ve you got there?” Xisuma asks. Evil X slams the notebook shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright then,” Xisuma says with slight amusement. “Keep your secrets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits down on the bed. “Did you sleep alright? I can’t imagine that was comfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evil X stretches and feels an ache in his spine that hadn’t been there last night. It would probably go away soon, as long as he didn’t keep sitting hunched over his notebook. “It wasn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moves to sit beside Xisuma on the bed, clutching his notebook close. There was hardly anything written in it, but even still, he didn’t want Xisuma reading it, at least not just yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…Were you alright by yourself last night?” Xisuma asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was okay…” Evil X says. Some implacable unease had settled into his chest, but between Scar’s cake and his many failed attempts at writing an apology letter, he’d been sufficiently distracted from it. His aching loneliness was driven to the very back of his mind, although he felt it clawing its way forward now that Xisuma was with him again. He clears his throat and taps his notebook against his knees. “How was your night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uneventful,” Xisuma says. “I managed to make a barter with Grian to have the blanket off his old bed so I wouldn’t turn into an Xisumasicle last night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evil X squeezes his fingers around the spine of the notebook. He hadn’t talked to Grian since that day in Iskall’s lab. “…How is Grian?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doing as well as he can be, I suppose,” Xisuma says with a sigh. “Still not used to… everything, but… I’m sure he’ll get there in time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His knuckles turn white as he curls his fingers into the edges harder. What must Grian think of him, he wonders. The two have barely shared three words, but he always seemed to see Evil X at his worst. He must surely think Evil X belongs in this box after everything he’s done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Iskall?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The same as Grian. You’ll be happy to know his arm is healing up nicely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…” The taste of copper fills his mouth at the thought. That was his fault. He was the one who had done that. The one who had bit Iskall, torn his flesh with his teeth. Not Mumbo, him. “That’s good. What… What about… How is… Mumbo…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xisuma clears his throat and shifts. “Iskall said he’s been asking after you. He wants to know how you are… how you’re settling in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He knows…?” Evil X asks, shrinking in on himself at the thought. Worse than Grian, worse than Iskall, worse than any of the other hermits was Mumbo, someone just as hopelessly insane as himself, knowing exactly the predicament he’d landed himself in. What Mumbo had done was terrible, but at least his motive had been influenced by that hellish environment he’d been trapped in. Evil X had earned his prison through actions wholly his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels fingers tapping his and looks down to see Xisuma’s hand covering his. He relaxes his grip on the notebook. The cover’s crinkled now. It was a gift from Xisuma and he’d gone and ruined it. What a waste of his diamonds. What a waste of his time. This whole thing had been a waste of time. Mumbo wouldn’t want an apology from him. As if it would even make him feel better to do it anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Evil X,” Xisuma says, squeezing his hand gently to get his attention. Evil X tenses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he says. It must get so tiring to spend time with him. No wonder Xisuma wanted to leave him here alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright,” Xisuma reassures, squeezing his hand again. “It’s alright. You haven’t done anything wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes I have!” Evil X shouts, pulling his hand away from Xisuma. “Yes I have! That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?! Because I’ve done so much wrong! Everything I do is wrong! I yelled at Iskall and I killed Mumbo and then my f-finger and now I ruined your notebook too! I just keep fucking up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a deep, shuddering breath, opens his mouth to continue, but before he can he feels Xisuma’s hands on his shoulders, gripping him tightly and pulling him into a hug. Instead of words, the only thing to come tumbling out of his mouth is a sob. He tries to pull away, but Xisuma’s grip is tight, almost too tight for comfort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you even here, Xisuma?” he cries. “Don’t you have anything better to do than waste your time on me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not wasting my time,” Xisuma says firmly. “You are not a waste of time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am!” Evil X exclaims. “I’m a burden and a waste of space! I’ve done nothing but make your life difficult! I’ve made everyone’s lives difficult!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xisuma’s grip on him only seems to tighten at his words, and he wants to scream at Xisuma to let go of him, leave him here to rot, never come back. He doesn’t get the opportunity to. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>That is not something you get to decide for me!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evil X flinches at Xisuma’s tone, whimpers and tries to pull away from him again, but Xisuma still doesn’t let go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t get to decide whether or not I’m wasting my time, Evil X, do you understand? That’s for me to decide. And I’ve decided that I’m not.” Xisuma says. “I’m not wasting my time on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why wouldn’t Xisuma just give up on him already? Why why why why why?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will not abandon you just because things aren’t easy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evil X lets out another cry. He wraps his arms around Xisuma and squeezes him back, puts as much strength into the hug as Xisuma. He buries his face against Xisuma’s chest, letting his sobs be muffled against the other man’s clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You deserve as much a chance to be happy again as anyone else.” Xisuma says softly, finally relaxing his grip on Evil X. He rubs circles into his back. “You deserve to be okay. And until that happens, I’ll be right here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xisuma rests his chin on the top of Evil X’s head and continues to rub circles into his back, silently reassuring him as his sobs die down into the occasional hiccup and sniffle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…Mumbo asked that I didn’t put you in here,” Xisuma says after awhile. “He begged me not to do to you what had been done to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did… Did he…?” Evil X asks. Now that he thought about it, he felt like he remembered a conversation between Xisuma and Mumbo that went along those lines. He’d thought he’d dreamt that. He feels Xisuma nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I… I killed him so many times… I hurt Iskall… I deserve this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s funny you say that,” Xisuma says. “Because he thought that you didn’t. Not like he did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evil X furrows his brow. If either of them deserved to be trapped in an obsidian box it was him. He’d made the choice to kill. Mumbo had the choice to kill made for him. “But he didn’t do it on purpose. Right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, he didn’t. Grian tells me that it was the influence of that red sun we saw that drove him to do the things he did.” Xisuma says. “But does that excuse the pain he caused?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He made a mistake,” Evil X says. “We both… made mistakes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xisuma sighs. “Maybe neither of you deserve it. I still don’t know if I made the right decision.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of Evil X says he did—what if he did something stupid again? What if he killed Mumbo again? What if he killed someone else? But another part of him screams that he didn’t. Let him out, let him out, let him out. He doesn’t want to be alone up here anymore, not a second longer. He wonders how much of the decision was Xisuma’s own. He wonders how much of it was pressure from hermits who would have otherwise wanted to see him dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter if it is or not,” he says at last. “because you already made it. That can’t be changed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Suppose it can’t be, can it?” Xisuma sighs again. “Can you ever forgive me for this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He squeezes Xisuma a little tighter. “I’ll have to think about it but… I think the odds are looking pretty good for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xisuma laughs and squeezes Evil X back. “I appreciate that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evil X shifts in Xisuma’s arms, lets go of him to pick up the notebook again. He flips it open to the page he’d been writing on, reads it over one last time before sighing and tearing it out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you give this to Mumbo for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xisuma takes the paper and holds it up to read before Evil X can stop him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry for killing you 28 times,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he reads. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Frowny face.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evil X’s face flushes and he buries it against Xisuma’s chest again in embarrassment. “Don’t laugh! I worked really hard on that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xisuma is quiet for a moment before he asks, “Is that what all these crumpled up papers are about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evil X nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Evil X…” Xisuma says. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As always, thanks for reading, and a huge thank you to everyone who's left kind comments for me so far! I appreciate them more than you can know.</p><p>Oh yeah! Sirii-us on tumblr did some awesome sketches based on this fic, which you can see <a href="https://sirii-us.tumblr.com/post/621755227779022848/evil-xisuma-sketch-dump">here!</a> Go show them some love!</p><p>Next chapter out Tuesday the 14th. c:</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Wait A Tick</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Evil X discovers a new trigger. He doesn't handle it well.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter Warnings: <br/>disordered eating, self-harm, graphic descriptions of gore, panic attacks.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He can hear the ticking of the clock on the wall. His mind had been too preoccupied before to notice it, but now it's all he can think about. It sounds like redstone. The feeling of unease that had settled in between his ribs suddenly made sense.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turns over in bed to face the wall, pulling his pillow up over his head to try and block out the sound, but it echoes around his skull until he’s sure that his brain is playing tricks on him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mumbo hadn’t used any of his redstone contraptions on him, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t hear them. Muffled behind the walls of the lab, they were the only consistent soundtrack to his time there. He recalls them most vividly during the time after Iskall arrived and Mumbo disappeared. They haunted his loneliest moments in the lab and now they haunt him here, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If only Xisuma was here, he thinks. Or Cleo, or Joe, or Scar, or Doc, or even Iskall or Grian. Even Mumbo. Anyone at all that could take his mind off the tick, tick, tock of the clock on the wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hums a nameless tune and does his best to keep himself from matching the rhythm of the clock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evil X?” He hears muffled behind him, and he flinches. It's just Xisuma, he recognizes his voice, but his heart won’t stop racing. He didn't even hear him come in. He takes a deep breath and turns back over. Xisuma’s eyebrows are knit together. “Are you alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“…Just a headache,” he lies. He’s supposed to tell the truth now, but his throat burns at the thought. What if Xisuma thought he didn’t want the clock anymore? He chest constricts at the thought of not having one, not having a way to track the time. It was a stupid thing to be bothered by, anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh huh,” Xisuma says skeptically, sitting by his feet. “Does the humming help with that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A little,” he says. Xisuma raises a brow at that. “A </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you eaten?” Xisuma asks. He shrugs sheepishly, averting his gaze at Xisuma’s disappointed look. Evil X hates how caught up he is on eating. Of all the things wrong with him he thought it was surely the least important. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, there might be your problem,” Xisuma says, turning to dig through the food chest. “You still have some of Scar’s cake left. Do you want that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X perks up. “Yes. I want it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma takes the cake out of the chest, clucking his tongue in a way that makes the hair on the back of Evil X’s neck stand on end. Evil X does his best to shake the feeling off. He pulls the plate out of Xisuma’s grasp and shovels a bite into his mouth. Xisuma laughs quietly and shakes his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t just eat cake all the time, you know,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X swallows the bite and frowns. “Why not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It has no nutritional value!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X taps his fork against the plate for a moment. “But it tastes good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You need to eat some vegetables or something,” Xisuma says, shaking his head again. “Maybe some carrots.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X thinks of his finger, thinks of telling himself it would be like biting through a fresh carrot. He grimaces. “Maybe some carrots…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two fall into an awkward silence then. Evil X takes another bite. It’s quiet enough that he can hear the clock again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you give Mumbo my apology?” he says through his mouthful of cake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma makes a face at his poor manners. “I did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did he read it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did he say anything?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma sighs. “Evil X…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, did he?” Evil X asks, heart sinking a bit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He didn’t,” Xisuma says. “Just give him some time, alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright…” Evil X says. “But how long?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma sighs. “As long as he needs, Evil X.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X’s hands shake at the thought. As long as he needs. It could be a day. It could be two. It could be forever. The cake in his hands suddenly doesn’t seem so appetizing. He holds the plate out towards Xisuma. “I’m full…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evil X…” Xisuma starts, and Evil X hunches his shoulders, preparing for a lecture he’s in no mood to hear. Xisuma sighs, and takes the plate from him. “Alright. It’ll be right here if you change your mind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>__</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tick.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tock.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tick.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tock.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X presses his pillow to his ears harder. If being alone had been difficult before, it was nearly unbearable now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>__</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next time the door to his box opens, Joe is the one who enters. His glasses are still broken. It’s the first thing Evil X notices. He averts his eyes, and guilt squirms in his stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are you holding up, Evil Xisuma?” Joe asks. Evil X shrugs in response. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it alright if I come in?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X shrinks in on himself and shrugs again. The last time he’d spoken to Joe, he’d had a clear line of escape from the conversation if it became too overwhelming. Now, though, he had nowhere to escape to. Joe had tried to help him last time. He’d all but thrown that help back in Joe’s face. What would he say to Evil X now?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m gonna need a clearer answer than that,” Joe says softly. “If you want me to leave, I can. No questions asked.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t go,” Evil X says quickly. His face flushes at the desperation in his voice. “…Please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t,” Joe reassures. “Can I come over there, or would you rather I sit here by the door?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thinks of his axe lodged in Mumbo’s guts. He thinks of his teeth sunk into Iskall’s arm. He thinks of his fist connecting with the side of Joe’s head. He doesn’t want to hurt Joe again. A selfish part of him doesn’t want Joe to be so close to escape, either.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X squeezes his eyes shut. “H-Here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hears soft footsteps approaching, feels Joe sit down on the bed beside him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“…How are you holding up?” Joe repeats. Evil X clenches his fists as he considers the question. How was he holding up? It seemed like every step forward came with three steps back. By his calculations, that would put him some four steps behind where he was when Xisuma stuck him in this box in the first place. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine, I guess,” he says. He can feel Joe’s eyes burning into him and glances in his direction. He looks sympathetic, encouraging, and it’s almost too much for Evil X to bear. He looks away again, stares resolutely at his lap instead. “Why are you here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you might enjoy some company,” Joe says. “It must get lonely up here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Evil X says quietly. “It does. Xisuma visits me, though. When he has time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And Cleo, I hear.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Cleo too.” Evil X says. “I… Um. I got hurt. And she fixed it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, Evil Xisuma. Do you mind sharing what happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X shrinks in on himself further. He knows that Joe and Cleo are close. If she would have told anyone about what happened it would have been him. He can’t tell if Joe is asking because he doesn’t know, or because he’s simply pretending. “…Will you tell anyone else?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want me to?” Joe asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Evil X says, nearly before Joe has finished the question.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I won’t.” Joe says. “I promise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X hesitates. He could trust Joe not to go back on his promise. He didn’t know if he could trust Joe to ever visit him again if he admitted to this. “…I bit my finger off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Joe says, and the surprise in his voice makes Evil X cringe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I heal fast,” Evil X says quickly. “And I wanted to see if… if that would heal too. Because I… I… Because…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d backed himself into a corner. How could he explain why he’d had the harebrained idea to test his own healing by dismembering himself without talking about the redstone world? He’d told Cleo now, but even having talked about it once, he still felt bile rise in his throat at the idea of talking about it again. Talking about it with someone new.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“B-Because… Because… when I was in the redstone world… When Mumbo…” Evil X takes a deep breath. “I… had to heal a lot. Even from death. But I never had to heal from something like that. I just wanted to know… if I would or not…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The box is silent, save for the incessant ticking of the clock, and Evil X’s hands shake. He folds them in his lap to try and hide it, bounces his leg anxiously as he waits for Joe to respond. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“…Well, I see you still have all your fingers, so I assume your experiment was a success,” Joe says. Evil X snorts. “Thanks to Cleo’s intervention, anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. And we talked.” Evil X says. “About… things. About… the redstone world.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m glad to know you’ve got a confidant that you trust,” Joe says. For some reason it makes Evil X feel all the more guilty that he didn’t confide in Joe sooner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You aren’t… mad that I didn’t tell you?” Evil X asks. “You offered to listen and I… ran away…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You weren’t ready to talk when I asked you,” Joe says. His calm, even tone eases the anxiety Evil X feels, but only just. “You have someone now, though, and it’s alright that it isn’t me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if that’s not enough?” Evil X blurts out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean by that?” Joe asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s had plenty of time to think about things. Plenty of time to think about everything. Even telling Cleo about the redstone world hadn’t been enough to keep him from breaking down in Xisuma’s arms. It wasn’t enough to fix his poor eating habits. It wasn’t enough to stop his nightmares, and it wasn’t enough to still his heart when he was left alone with the ticking clock. Maybe nothing would be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if I never get any better? What if… I’m stuck here forever…” Evil X says. “What if everyone moves on to the next server and forgets me here? What if… What if I deserve to get left behind?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Joe is silent, and the little anxiety Evil X had managed to conquer returns in full force. He tangles his hands together, unconsciously circling his fingers around the pinky he’d bit off. He squeezes it, feels the pressure of his fingers against the bone. He wonders if he pulled hard enough, could he rip it off again? He imagines popping it off cleanly where his teeth had perforated. Evil X doesn’t register that he’s tugging on it until he feels a gentle touch against his arm and remembers that Joe is sitting beside him, watching him. He releases his hand, stares at the angry scratches his nails left on his skin, and sighs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can barely go a day without doing something stupid…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you do when you’re alone up here, Evil Xisuma?” Joe asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I dunno,” Evil X says. “Wait for Xisuma to visit, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In other words,” Joe starts, and Evil X is already cringing in anticipation of what he’ll say next. “not a whole lot of anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X nods slowly. “One might even say nothing at all…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It sounds to me like you need an outlet,” Joe says. “What do you like to do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thinks about building, thinks about redstone, thinks about all the things he gave up when he became Evil Xisuma. Things he couldn’t do from this obsidian prison even if he had the energy to try.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last time he’d held a tool in his hands he’d turned it into a weapon, anyway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugs. “Nothing…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Joe hums thoughtfully. “We can figure something out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like what?” Evil X asks. “I can’t do anything from up here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like to write,” Joe says. “Stories and poetry, sometimes letters. Have you ever thought about writing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thinks about the apology he’d written Mumbo, the apology he was still waiting on a reply to. It’s only been two days since he’d sent it, but it felt like an eternity. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not really,” he says. “I’m not creative enough for that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to be creative to write,” Joe says. Evil X is not convinced. “You could journal. Write about your day. Write about how you’re feeling.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X grimaces. “That doesn’t sound very fun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, maybe not,” Joe says. “But it can help get your thoughts in order, or make them be a little quieter when they get too loud.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thinks about how draining it was to share his experiences with Cleo, how he’s still a broken mess despite that. Is it even worth getting his thoughts in order?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Isn’t there… anything else?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure there is. There’s a lot of things you can do with a little paper and a pen.” Joe says. “You could write letters to your friends.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X snorts. “What’s the point? Who would want to write me back?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Plenty of hermits would write you back, Evil Xisuma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thinks again of the letter he’d sent Mumbo. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“…No. Something else.” He says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Joe is silent for a moment, and for some reason it’s so much worse that he doesn’t sigh exhaustedly at him. How much longer could he push Joe’s patience?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you ever thought about drawing?” Joe suggests.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X shrugs. He hasn’t. “What… would I draw…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s the beauty of art, Evil Xisuma. You could draw whatever you please.” Joe says. “I could bring you some paper, if you’d like.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Xisuma got me a notebook…” Evil X says. He hesitates, then reaches under his bed to pull it out and show Joe. The spine is wrinkled and the cover doesn’t sit quite flat thanks to all the pages he’s ripped out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Looks like you’ve already gotten a bit of use out of it,” Joe remarks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“…I wrote Mumbo a letter,” Evil X admits.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, that’s something,” Joe says. “What did you say to him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry. For killing him.” Evil X says. “He hasn’t wrote back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Give him time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s what Xisuma said too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Xisuma’s pretty smart,” Joe says. “So are you, Evil Xisuma. If you were in Mumbo’s position, what would you do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What would he do? If Mumbo had given him a letter apologizing for the things he did, what would he do? After all the pain Mumbo put him through, would a single sentence letter really be enough? Would anything be enough?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels Joe’s hand giving his back a gentle pat. “Give him time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>__</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X sits with his back against obsidian, knees drawn up to his chest and notebook open against them. He taps his pen against the paper. Even with Xisuma visiting him regularly he still found himself stewing in a broth of every negative, anxious thought and feeling his brain conjured, every tick and tock of the clock. He needed an outlet for it all. Joe suggested journaling, and Evil X was starting to think it wasn’t such a bad idea.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Where should he start? From the beginning? Where was the beginning? Was it when Mumbo caught him? When he entered the redstone world? When he became Evil X in the first place?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tap tap taps his pen against the paper as he thinks. Maybe the beginning wasn’t the best place to start. Maybe he should start later. But later when? When the other hermits found him in the redstone world? When he was forced into this prison? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X’s grip on his pen tightens. He can barely focus on his thoughts. That damn clock’s ticking reverberates in his head. It bounces off his skull and layers over itself until he can think of nothing else. He closes his eyes, but when he does he finds himself back in the red lab.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pen scratches against the paper over and over and over, just to give Evil X any other sound to focus on. He opens his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t have to write words. He could draw pictures too. Joe suggested drawing, didn’t he? He could draw anything he wants. He continues to scratch lines into the paper. He can’t think of anything else. Just the </span>
  <em>
    <span>tick tick tock</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the clock on the wall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He draws a line, and on a whim he crosses it at the top. He draws a line beside it, and dots it at the top. A curved line beside that. Another line, and one that connects to it, bent at a ninety degree angle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tick</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What a lonely little tick. Just like him. He thinks he should give it a friend. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tock</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why stop there? He could have a whole page full of ticks and tocks, just like his head is full of ticks and tocks. How was </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> for creative writing?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tick. Tock.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X bites his lip and makes a sound somewhere between a whimper and a giggle. It doesn’t feel any better, writing the ticks and tocks out. It doesn’t get them out of his head. Maybe he just needs some more?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It won’t go away. It won’t go away. It won’t go away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He growls and throws the notebook across the room. He leaps to his feet, stalks over to where the clock sits. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X grabs the clock and rips it from the wall. He turns and throws it as hard as he can against the ground. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Smash.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can still hear the ticking and tocking, even though the clock sits shattered on the obsidian floor, glass and gold and redstone in a haphazard pile. Evil X screams. He brings his foot down on the broken clock. Then again, and again, and again, until the components no longer resemble the whole they had once been, and the only sound he hears is his own beating heart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>__</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It seemed that he was doomed to hurt himself if left alone for too long. If he’d taken more than a second to think about it, he would have realized what a terrible idea stomping on a broken clock while barefoot was. Instead he realizes it when he turns to mope in bed, and feels a sharp pain as his foot touches the ground on the first step there. There’s glass stuck in it, glass and shards of gold and bits of redstone mixed with blood and it hurts, it hurts, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurts</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X sits on the floor in the middle of the box, pulls his foot into his lap and carefully, very carefully, tries to pull a piece of glass out. His foot is already red with blood and it already hurts, but when he wiggles the glass the pain only sharpens, and blood wells up to the surface faster. He lets go of the glass with a whimper. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” he mutters. Why did he do that? He </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> the clock. He didn’t want to break it. Would Xisuma get him a new one? Did he even deserve a new one? He touches the glass in his foot again, but pulls his fingers away before he has a chance to gauge how painful it is. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X feels tears stinging in his eyes. He was supposed to be getting better, wasn’t he? But here he was, throwing fits and breaking things and hurting himself. He would never get out of the damn box at this rate, unless he somehow managed to hide this mess from Xisuma. If he could just get his foot cleaned up then he could say the clock had simply fallen. He grabs the glass again and wiggles it, tastes coppery adrenaline in his mouth before he feels the sharp sting of the glass in his flesh and pulls his hand away with a sob. “Fuck!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evil X?” He hears from the doorway, and his heart stops at the sound. He looks up and it’s Grian he sees standing there this time, confusion and concern written on his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you here?” Evil X asks quietly. Grian wasn’t supposed to visit him. He didn’t want anyone to see him right now, but especially not Grian. He leaps to his feet, barely keeps his knee from buckling under him when he feels the glass in his foot press deeper into his flesh. “Go away! Leave! I don’t want to see you!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door is still open, and he thinks if he could just make it over there he could force Grian back out, slam the door behind him and block it. He takes a step forward. Someone else steps through the doorway, steps between him and Grian, and his heart stops for a second time when he realizes it’s Iskall. The sight of him makes Evil X feel like he’s trapped in a bear hug, about to be cleaved open by an axe, and he takes a step back again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no, go away…” he whimpers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evil X, you’re hurt…” Grian says, and steps around Iskall, ducking under his arm when he tries to keep Grian behind him where he would be safe from Evil X.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No I’m not!” Evil X shouts, and takes another step back. He can’t help but wince as the glass in his foot shifts. Grian stops moving, holds his one stump up, and Evil X imagines if he still had arms he would be holding his hands up placatingly. It does nothing to assuage his anxiety, though, and he continues to back away from the two until he nearly trips over the food chest. He slams his foot down on the obsidian, the force of it pressing the glass further into him, and he yelps. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His vision swims and he’s shaking, swaying on his feet. He’ll fall down if he doesn’t sit down, and then he really won’t be able to get rid of Iskall and Grian. Evil X reaches behind himself until his fingers find the wall. He leans back against it, lets himself slide down until he’s sitting. He curls his knees up to his chest to make himself as small as he can. “Go away. Leave me alone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evil X… let us help you,” Grian says. He takes a step closer, and Evil X snarls at him, snaps his teeth until Grian stops in his tracks again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want your help!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But your foot—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll fix it myself!” Evil X shouts. “Why do you even care?! It’s not your problem!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grian says nothing, and the room is left in silence, save for Evil X’s own panicky breaths. Grian makes no move to come closer, but Evil X still finds himself scooting further into the corner, away from Grian and Iskall. It doesn’t make him feel any better. Now he’s really trapped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Iskall finally closes the door, and Evil X flinches at the sound of the latch clicking. Really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> trapped. Neither of them make a move towards him, though, and he lets out a shaky breath, relaxes his legs until they’re stretched out in front of him. He pulls his injured foot into his lap to examine the glass again, doing his best to ignore his intruders. His entire foot is slick with blood now, his wounds torn wider, the glass and gold deeper. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pokes at the glass, sucks in a breath at the pain. It’s even worse than before. He sniffles and realizes then that his cheeks are wet with tears. Just what he needed, to cry in front of Iskall and Grian. He rubs his palm across his cheek, and only too late does he realize his hand is covered in blood. Great. He makes a sound between a sob and a laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“…What happened, Evil X?” Grian asks. Evil X grits his teeth so hard at the words that his jaw aches. He feels like he might break his teeth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened?” Evil X repeats back. “Do you know… how </span>
  <em>
    <span>sick</span>
  </em>
  <span> of that question I am?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks up at Grian and Iskall, who stare back with eyebrows knit together. He doesn’t know if they’re confused or frightened, and he doesn’t care. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened is that your </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend</span>
  </em>
  <span> strapped me down to a quartz table and spent days upon </span>
  <em>
    <span>days</span>
  </em>
  <span> torturing me! Exploiting my </span>
  <em>
    <span>freak</span>
  </em>
  <span> ability to heal so he could kill me over and over!” Evil X shouts. “And now I’m even more of a worthless fuck-up than I was before! Does that answer your question, Grian?! Are you satisfied now that you know?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both have sympathy written across their faces, and he hates it, he hates seeing it directed at him. He feels small enough without their pity. He looks down at his foot again, grazes his fingers against the glass idly, as if he might actually work up the courage to pull it out anytime soon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… I meant… what happened here, with your foot…” Grian says finally. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> what happened with my foot!” He snaps. “Can’t even hear a ticking clock without feeling like I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span> again… Can’t be left alone for more than ten minutes without doing something stupid…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evil X,” Grian says like a warning, and Evil X realizes with a twinge of pain that he’s pressing his fingers against the glass in his foot. He moves his hand away, places it beside himself on the floor with a sigh. Case in point.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, Evil X,” Grian says, softer now. “Let Iskall have a look at your foot. He can help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Iskall takes a step towards him, and Evil X is immediately filled with panic. He gasps, presses himself into the corner, and shakes his head. “No! Don’t touch me!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Iskall stops, puts his hands up and slowly backs away again. Evil X takes a deep breath, runs a trembling hand through his hair before he remembers the blood coating it. How does he always end up back here, shaking, crying, and covered in blood? He remembers the first time Mumbo took a blade to his flesh and wonders whatever happened to that Evil X, the one who didn’t react to the pain? Why couldn’t he be that version of himself anymore? He misses that version of himself. Another sob works its way out of his throat at the thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t you want Iskall to help you, Evil X?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X’s eyes dart to Iskall, glance along the bandage he still wore over his arm. He thinks of the biting words he’d attacked Iskall with. He had done more to harm Iskall than Iskall had done to harm him. He shrinks in on himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Iskall…” He starts, his voice already cracking. “He… helped Mumbo kill me… in the box…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It sounds so stupid and petty when he says it out loud. That hadn’t been Iskall’s intent. He doubts Iskall even expected Mumbo to pick Evil X’s axe up in defense of him. The idea of Iskall anywhere near him sends his heart racing anyway. He runs his hands through his hair again, tugs the ends enough to send a sharp sting to his scalp. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evil X.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He just wants them to leave, leave, leave, leave, </span>
  <em>
    <span>leave—</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evil X!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—leave and get Xisuma and tell him what Evil X had done, condemn him to this prison forever already—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Evil X!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hands are yanked away from his head and he gasps, looks up right into Iskall’s serious face and lets out a cry. He tries to pull away, but Iskall holds tight onto his wrists. “Let go, let go, let go! Let me go!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evil X, calm down! You were hurting yourself!” Grian cries. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Is that why his head aches? Evil X bites his lip against a whimper, tries to tug his hands out of Iskall’s grip again to no avail. He bites harder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evil X, </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Grian shouts. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you need to breathe!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X tastes blood and releases his lip. He sucks in a deep breath as Grian has asked, and lets it back out as a sob. “L-let me go, let me go, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>, please Mumbo, please—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X’s pleading is cut short as he realizes what he’s just said. Iskall’s face looks stricken, and his grip on Evil X’s wrists loosens enough for Evil X to pull his hands away, pull them close to his chest where his fingers dig against his collarbone anxiously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Iskall sits back, away from Evil X, swallowing hard. Grian is silent. Evil X wishes he could disappear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry, for yelling at you, and biting you, a-and calling you Mumbo. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neither of them move. Evil X shrinks further on himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why aren’t you leaving? Just go already. Please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“…Why do you want us to leave so badly?” Grian asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Does Evil X even know the answer to that question? Is he embarrassed? Anxious? Maybe he just doesn’t think he deserves visitors at all. Maybe it’s just that it’s Grian and Iskall. Maybe it’s that they’ve caught him like this. Maybe it’s that they wear their scars on their body, while his are all in his mind. He remembers the day he was brought back to the server. Remembers wondering if Iskall resented him for his unmarred body. He still wonders it. Wonders it even more now that Grian is back, and his arms are gone. The things that happened to him can’t have been that bad if there was no proof it ever occurred. He didn’t deserve anyone’s sympathy, let alone Grian and Iskall’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I…” Evil X says, but his voice catches in his throat. He swallows, takes a deep breath and tries again. “H-He started… with my collarbone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X taps his fingers against the spot that Mumbo’s scalpel cut. “And when it healed, he cut it open again. And again. And again. Over and over and over, and there’s still no scars to prove it ever happened…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re mad you don’t have any scars, is that it?” Grian says. Evil X flinches at his tone. Part of him screams that he knew they resented him. He squeezes his eyes shut against it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if it wasn’t real?” Evil X asks. “What if I just… imagined it all? What if I’m just… crazy…? I have no proof… Why would anyone believe me without proof?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evil X… they found you tied to a table and covered in blood. It doesn’t matter that you don’t have scars. What happened to you… </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> real.” Grian says. “I believe you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels a tap against his uninjured foot and flinches again, opens his eyes slowly. Iskall is holding up his notebook. It takes a moment for his eyes to focus, but when they do he reads, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I believe you too.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whatever tears he’d managed to hold back thus far finally fall. “You believe me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We believe you Evil X,” Grian says again, and Evil X nods, wipes his eyes and nose on the back of his hand, and nods again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You believe me…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>__</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he’s finally cried himself dry, Grian asks Evil X once more if he’ll allow Iskall to help with his foot. He glances between the bloody mess and Iskall for a moment before finally nodding consent, hesitantly extending his leg for Iskall to hold while he worked. Iskall does not strike him as a delicate man, but Evil X is surprised when his touch is gentle. Each tug on the glass and gold in his foot slows to a stop every time Evil X gasps and tenses. He’s more patient than he lets on. It reminds him of that day in Iskall’s lab, when he’d helped Evil X finish shaving. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X runs a hand across his face, feels the weeks of growth he’d left unchecked since that day. He hasn’t looked in a mirror in awhile, but he imagines he must look even more like Xisuma than he has in years.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why did you volunteer to go first, Evil X?” Grian asks suddenly. Iskall pauses for a moment before carefully picking at the glass again. “I didn’t think you cared about any of us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do care…” Evil X says. “I was friends with everyone once upon a time, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not how everyone else tells it,” Grian says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grian is silent again, and Evil X takes a deep breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not… Xisuma’s evil clone, or whatever it is they’ve told you about me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What, are you like his twin brother or something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X laughs, and he’s relieved to find it sounds genuine. “No. I’m not that either.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X doesn’t respond. Why did he let the conversation go in this direction? He doesn’t want to tell Grian and Iskall about himself like this, does he? Is he ready?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evil X…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he’s not, he hardly has a choice now. He takes another breath. “I’m Xisuma. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Was</span>
  </em>
  <span> Xisuma. And he’s Xisuma. We both… were Xisuma. Before I… </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> died, in season three.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels Iskall stop his work, and glances up at them both. They’re staring. He averts his gaze again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m a reaper. I mean… servers have… someone to escort the souls of those who’ve died into the afterlife. And fate decided when we… when </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> died that it would be me. And when Cleo tried to bring me back, she brought a different Xisuma back instead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X bites his lip, and before Grian can say anything he adds, “Ask Cleo. Or Xisuma. They’ll tell you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that why you were so worried about us believing you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X glances up again, brows furrowed. “Huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were so concerned about having proof… Is that why?” Grian asks. “Does… does no one believe you about this?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X averts his gaze and says, “Like I said. Ask Cleo or Xisuma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grian’s face twists into a grimace. “…I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X looks away again. “It’s not your fault. You only just got here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Still.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X doesn’t respond, and after a moment Iskall continues to pick at his foot. He flinches at a sharp pain as a piece of glass slides out of his flesh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You two were the only people that knew I went through the portal. The only people that knew I was in the redstone world.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t tell Xisuma?” Grian asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Didn’t have time. It was kind of a sudden decision.” Evil X says. “You know I… I heard everything he did to you both. I heard him… torture and kill the only two people that knew I was there…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“…They found you, Evil X. They found all of us. You’re not there anymore.” Grian says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“…I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels Iskall set his foot down and turns his attention back to him, watching Iskall pick up his notebook and write something in it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Do you have any water?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think there’s some in the chest…” Evil X says. “Are you done?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Iskall nods and moves to the chest, opening the lid to check inside. Evil X flexes his foot, winces when it still hurts. Iskall pulls an armful of water bottles from the chest and settles back near Evil X’s foot. He pops the cork out of one bottle, then picks his foot back up, slowly pouring the water over it to wash away the blood. It’s cold, and Evil X shivers. Iskall gives him a sympathetic look. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Evil X says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X leans forward and grabs a bottle as well, pouring the water onto his hands to wash off the blood there, scrubs at his cheeks and hopes he’s doing anything to remove whatever blood is there. The three are silent as Iskall and Evil X work to clean him of blood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“…Why did you come here, anyway?” Evil X asks after a moment. “I doubt this was just a social visit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glances up at Grian, who grimaces. “Well… we were actually here to deliver something for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Deliver…? For me?” Evil X raises a brow. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mumbo said you wrote him a letter. He wanted us to bring you his response.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X blinks. Mumbo wrote him back? Iskall sighs and sets down his half emptied bottle, wipes his wet hand off on his pants before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a crumpled paper. Evil X sets his own bottle down with a loud clank against the obsidian floor. Iskall glares and it’s clear from his expression he’s saying, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Be more careful.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X manages to look sheepish for just a second before he reaches out and snatches the letter from Iskall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He unfolds it, his heart thumping in his ribcage as he wonders what he will find there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry for killing you 17 times,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he reads.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Frowny face.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! Next chapter will be out Tuesday, July 21.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Looking A Gift Horse In The Mouth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Grian and Xisuma give Evil X some gifts. Evil X overthinks them a bit.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter Warnings:<br/>disordered eating, panic attacks, mild violence, impermanent character death</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s quiet in the box, without a clock. Evil X doesn’t like it anymore than he liked the ticking. At least with a clock he could see the time, get a bearing on how long it had been since someone had last paid him a visit. He bounces his leg anxiously and glances up at the wall where the clock had been as if this time it will be there again, not in pieces in the trash.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grian and Iskall had cleaned up the broken clock for him, had told Xisuma he needed a new one, although he wasn’t sure exactly how they had worded it given he no longer had access to the communicator in his helmet. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Evil X needs a new clock </span>
  </em>
  <span>sounds a little different from </span>
  <em>
    <span>this lunatic broke his clock in a fit of insanity.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X is sure Xisuma could probably guess either way that it was somehow his fault that the clock was broken. Xisuma didn’t say anything when he arrived at the box that evening, but the way he sat next to Evil X, the way he pulled him into a gentle hug, said more than any words could have. He thought he’d spent the last of his tears earlier with Grian and Iskall, but it turned out he still had a few to spare. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he was alone now, and he didn’t know how long he had been alone, and he didn’t know when he wouldn’t be alone anymore. He needs a distraction, anything at all. With a resigned sigh, Evil X leans over, rummages under the bed until he finds his notebook, and the letter slipped between the pages of it. He opens it, unfolds the letter, and reads it like he hasn't a hundred times already.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry for killing you 17 times. :(</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinks slowly at the words and reads them again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry for killing you 17 times. :(</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It says the same thing as before, the same thing it always has, and it's just as unbelievable. Seventeen times. Only seventeen times. He had killed Mumbo twenty-eight times—in one sitting, even—and Mumbo had only killed him seventeen times over the course of his imprisonment in the redstone world. It makes his gut flip-flop over itself in guilt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Briefly, he wonders if that figure includes the last time in Mumbo’s box. He wonders if it even matters or not. Even if it wasn’t included, the number would still only be eighteen. He feels like he should apologize again, but he’s even less sure of how to word a second one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A thought strikes him, a memory of a conversation with Xisuma. Mumbo hadn’t wanted him boxed, he had told Evil X. He wasn’t sure how true that could be at the time. He was even less sure now that he knew he had nearly a dozen kills over on Mumbo. How could Mumbo possibly believe that he didn’t deserve this punishment? He’d done more than enough to earn it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His thoughts are interrupted by voices from the hallway beyond the iron door. He recognizes Xisuma’s immediately, even muffled as it is, but it takes him a moment to place Grian’s airy laughter, and he blinks when he does. What would Grian be doing back here? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door clicks open, and with a stab of panic Evil X realizes he still has Mumbo’s letter open in his lap. He folds it along its crease sloppily and closes the notebook cover over it just as the door swings open to admit Xisuma and Grian. He stares at them both, and they smile back at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, Evil X,” Grian says, and his cheer almost makes Evil X frown. “How are you today?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X doesn’t even know what day </span>
  <em>
    <span>today</span>
  </em>
  <span> is. It could have been a week ago that he’d last seen anyone, for all he knew. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“…Peachy.” Xisuma gives him a disapproving look and he shrinks on himself a bit, casts his gaze away from his visitors. “What’re you doing here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ve brought a couple things for you,” Xisuma says. He pulls a clock out with a small flourish. “Ta-da!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A new clock,” Evil X says. He wants to be happy, but he can’t help but think of the fate of his last clock. He can hear this one ticking just as clearly. He wonders how long before its glass is stuck in his foot too. “…Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not all we brought,” Xisuma says as he positions the new clock where the old one sat. Like it never even happened, Evil X thinks, his gut twisting. “This part was Grian’s idea.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grian grins, pride written across his face. Evil X wants to ask what makes him so sure he has anything to be proud of yet when Xisuma pulls the item in question from his inventory, placing it against the wall under the clock. Evil X’s breath catches in his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a jukebox!” Grian says. “Last time I was here, after… you know… You said that the sound of the clock was bothering you. I thought this might help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma motions Evil X over. He hesitates for only a moment before getting to his feet and approaching. Xisuma holds up a handful of colorful records for him, and his eyes crinkle with a smile. “Take your pick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X thinks it over for only a second before pulling the bright green disc out of Xisuma’s hands. He holds it, examines it, though he isn’t sure what he’s looking for. Delicately, he places the record into the player. A moment later, a soft melody fills the room. Even standing here beside the clock, he finds himself unable to make out the tick tick tock over the music. He feels tears at the corner of his eyes and blinks against them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sniffs and scrubs at his eyes, willing himself to calm down. He shouldn’t cry over this. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Possibly the nicest thing to happen to him since Scar’s cake. It makes him happy. Yet still, he feels a sob in his throat. He swallows it down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” He manages to choke out. “Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re welcome, Evil X,” Grian says gently. “Why don’t you go sit down and relax? Xisuma can put the next disc in for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X nods, retreats to his bed to sit down while Xisuma and Grian chat by the jukebox. Music flows gently from it, the ticking of the clock still disguised under the sound, yet Evil X finds it difficult to relax even still. He can't help but wonder why Grian would do something so kind for him. Their interactions up until now are hardly what he would call pleasant. He'd spent half of their last meeting screaming at Grian, yet Grian had still been considerate enough to bring Evil X something to help with his anxiety. So many of the hermits had, in their own way, tried to help him. After so many years of being shunned, he wasn't sure how to cope with it. It felt wrong. It felt undeserved. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels something on the top of his head and jumps, shaken from his thoughts. He looks up, sees Xisuma giving him a concerned smile and lets out a breath of relief. It's Xisuma's hand on his head Evil X realizes when he ruffles his hair. "You alright, there? You seem a little tense."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"...Fine," Evil X says quietly. He'd rather not get into it while Grian was here. He'd rather not get into it at all, if he were being completely honest. He may have been getting better about sharing his feelings, but it still made his heart speed up when he thought about allowing himself such vulnerability. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Alright," Xisuma says, his tone suggesting he didn't believe him, but he doesn't push the issue. He sits down beside Evil X. "How're you enjoying the jukebox so far?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's nice," Evil X says. He wonders how much detail Grian gave Xisuma when he'd decided to bring one for him. Maybe the first Xisuma was hearing of Evil X's sensitivity to the ticking of the clock was now. Part of him wants to ask, but another is afraid to know the answer. He wonders how many more days in his cage he'd earned for himself when he'd had his last episode. Maybe it would be easier to measure the time in weeks. Maybe in months. "Can't hear the clock at all..."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I wasn't sure what sort of music you liked," Grian says from across the room, seated against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him. "So I tried to pick out a variety. Hopefully you'll like most of them."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I like them," Evil X says. They were still only on the first disc, but he felt confident no matter what type of music they played he would enjoy them, just by virtue of them being gifts. He still can barely wrap his mind around the idea. "...You didn't have to get me anything, though."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I didn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to, but I wanted to," Grian says dismissively, almost enough to make Evil X forget all his anxiety about the entire situation. Grian smiles. "I'm glad you like it." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X ducks his head to hide his embarrassment. Xisuma bumps their shoulders together, chortles when Evil X gives him a confused look. "You've got to learn how to accept gifts."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah," Evil X says. "I guess so..."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma and Grian stay with him in his box through at least two more records. Maybe more. By the time Xisuma had gotten up to switch the record a second time Evil X felt his eyelids growing heavy with sleep. It hardly came easy to him, and rarely was it restful, but with two of the hermits here with him he thought he just might be able to sleep peacefully for once. He only hesitated a moment before plopping his head down into Xisuma's lap, Grian's presence doing little to deter him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Between the way their voices blend with the music and Xisuma's fingers idly carding through his hair, he feels himself drifting off rather quickly. Xisuma and Grian's voices seem to fade shortly after. Only the music remains, keeping the dreadful silence, the dreadful ticking, at bay.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, "...He told me what he is, Xisuma."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fingers in his hair pause for just a moment. "...Did he now?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yes. Is it true?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"...Yeah. It's true."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"And you and Cleo knew?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I wasn't aware Cleo knew too."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"But you knew. For how long?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A pause. The music in the background fades out as the disc comes to an end. "Not too long after my... </span>
  <em>
    <span>our</span>
  </em>
  <span> death. A few months, at most."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another pause, more pregnant than the last. "...Why didn't you tell anyone?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"He spent God knows how long in that world being tortured and he doesn't think anyone will believe him, X!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's not my place to tell anyone, Grian! I didn't do it to spite him!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You know it wasn't too long ago that I first joined this server, Xisuma. I can't help but think, what if this had happened any sooner? What if I didn't have any friends to support me after all that? I wouldn't want to talk to anyone about it either. It's no wonder he ended up here."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You—Are you blaming </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> for this?!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fingers in his hair tighten, and Evil X flinches, a weak whimper worming its way up his throat. Xisuma carefully combs his fingers through Evil X's hair where he'd pulled on it, making soft shushing noises as he does. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X blinks blurry eyes open to see Grian still seated across the room. Grian smiles, but there's something off about it that he can't quite place. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Shh," Xisuma says softly. "Go back to sleep, Evil X."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sorry," Grian says. "We'll try to be quieter."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X blinks again, his brain still too sluggish and sleepy to properly decipher the look on Grian's face. He thinks he heard Grian and Xisuma talking—arguing—but it feels far away, like a half-remembered dream. Xisuma's fingers are still carding through his hair, and he finds himself allowing the rhythm of it to pull him back to sleep. He was probably just imagining things, anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room falls back into silence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm not saying this is entirely your fault, X. I just—It didn't have to be this way for him. It shouldn't be this way for him. Does anyone ever visit him?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I—I don't know."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It must be lonely."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"...Yeah. I imagine it must be."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>__</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X taps his pen against his notebook, chewing his lip in thought. Mumbo's letter sits open beside him, the words written on it burning into him. He doesn't need to look at it to know what it says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry for killing you 17 times. :(</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Idly, Evil X doodles a score table in his notebook.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Evil X: 28. Mumbo: 17.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He's not sure why he got his notebook out in the first place. What was he going to write? He's not a storyteller, nor an artist. He didn't want to journal. He didn't want to write to anyone. Yet here it was, page near blank, waiting, Mumbo's letter still glaring up at him from the bed beside him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He taps his pen against the paper again. Lets his thoughts drift back once more to what Xisuma had told him. He presses the nib of his pen against the paper and ever so slowly, writes a single sentence, a single question.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Do you really think I don't deserve this?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wonders if Mumbo will respond to this one too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>__</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The quiet tick of the clock is drowned out by the music playing on his jukebox. Evil X is surprised by how much of his anxiety is eased with the simple addition of the music player. He could lay on his back, fingers laced behind his head, and for just a few moments he felt truly relaxed. The upbeat synth of the disc labeled </span>
  <em>
    <span>mall</span>
  </em>
  <span> was one of his favorites. It made the idea of an eternity imprisoned here slightly less daunting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hears the quiet click of the door opening over the music and blinks, turns to see Xisuma entering, a sheepish look in his eyes. "You weren't sleeping were you?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X shakes his head. He sits up and stretches, tilting his head as he waits for Xisuma to speak, to tell him what he's missed on the server, to ask him how he's feeling, if he's eaten. Instead, Xisuma wrings his hands nervously by the door. He's got a sword on his belt. He never brought weapons with him to the box. It makes Evil X feel nervous in turn. He hadn't done something wrong, had he? He wracks his brain, but besides sending Xisuma off with another letter for Mumbo, he can't recall having done anything at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So, Evil X," Xisuma finally says. Evil X holds his breath, sucks his lip between his teeth in anticipation. "I was thinking maybe, if you'd like, you could... come with me today while I do some business in the shopping district. If you're feeling up to it."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X blinks at Xisuma. He's sure he hadn't heard that right. He couldn't have. He was supposed to stay here in this box, stay here until he was fixed, if he ever was fixed. Surely Xisuma wasn't planning on letting him out, even temporarily. He opens his mouth to gape at Xisuma, then closes it again. This must be some kind of test. There's a right answer. He just wasn't sure what it was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"...Evil X?" Xisuma ventures. "If you don't want to go that's alright. You can stay here."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No!" Evil X shouts, then shrinks in on himself. He mirrors Xisuma's pose, hands wrung together held close to his chest. His fingers find their way around his pinky as if on some instinct. He pulls on it, hard. It stays attached to his hand. He pulls on it again. "...I don't want to stay here."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glances up, catches a slight crinkle of a smile around Xisuma's eyes through his helmet visor. "Okay. It'll be nice to get some fresh air and stretch your legs, I'm sure."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X nods. He stops pulling on his pinky. Maybe this wasn't a test after all. Maybe Xisuma really was going to let Evil X go to the shopping district with him. That still didn't explain the sword. Was Xisuma afraid Evil X might do something? His grip on his pinky tightens again, and he tries not to think about it. Think about anything else. Think about the bakery in the shopping district. Maybe he could convince Xisuma to buy him a cake while they were there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Evil X?" Xisuma says gently. Evil X blinks, and realizes he hasn't gotten up yet. He's made no move to leave at all. He jumps to his feet, flushes at his own eagerness, and takes careful, measured steps across the box until he's standing beside Xisuma. "Ready then?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X nods again. "...Ready."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma smiles and opens the door, holds it so Evil X can step out first. He swallows against a lump in his throat. He steps through the threshold of his prison. He's free.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The route to the shopping district is as familiar as if he'd just made a trip there yesterday, although he can't recall how long it's truly been since his last visit. The nether hub is empty as Evil X and Xisuma approach the shopping district portal, and Evil X can't help but breathe a sigh of relief. The idea of running into another hermit makes his palms sweat with nerves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The shopping district is similarly deserted, and Evil X relaxes a fraction more. He allows himself to trail just a step further behind Xisuma, glancing around at the passing builds. The sunlight glinting off the glass and concrete and wood and stone hurts his eyes. It's brighter out here than he remembers it being. He's not sure he likes it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can smell the dirt and grass as if he were holding a handful of it directly under his nose, can smell the salt of the nearby ocean as if he were standing in the waves. Even the ocean smell surrounding Xisuma's base never seemed to reach him beyond those obsidian walls. He hadn't realized how stale the air in his box had gotten until now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They pass the bakery, and Evil X cranes his neck to see inside, to see the colorful cakes on display. He feels a stab of hunger at the sight of them. Xisuma would be disappointed if he knew how little Evil X had eaten since he finished off the cake Scar baked him. It wasn't for lack of trying. He misses the taste of steak and apples and cooked salmon and golden carrots. Even the thought of  them makes his stomach roil unpleasantly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Evil X?" He hears called, and he turns to see Xisuma up ahead on the path, giving him a curious tilt of the head. He'd lagged behind to look at the cakes. His eyes widen and he scurries along the path until he's back at Xisuma's side. Xisuma chuckles, and Evil X's face flushes in embarrassment. "Window shopping?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hesitantly, Evil X nods. "...Cake."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I can buy you one before we leave, if you'd like," Xisuma says. Evil X nods again, more enthusiastically this time. Xisuma smiles. "Alright. Once I'm all done here we'll get you a cake. Whichever one you want."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another nod. "Okay."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's quiet in the shopping district. It's easy for Evil X to let his mind drift as he follows Xisuma from shop to shop. He wonders what made Xisuma decide to do this. It couldn't be a reward for good behavior, he'd hardly behaved well at all since being put in that box—since before he was put in it. He wonders if Xisuma had consulted with any other hermits before letting him out. Surely they would have told him no. Surely they would be around to keep an eye on him if they knew. But Xisuma seems in no particular rush to finish his errands, and he makes no great effort to conceal Evil X's presence with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, he can't help but wring his hands and glance around nervously as they go, like at any moment this freedom will be torn away from him, any moment he'll be forced back into his prison—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Alright, that's about it, then," Xisuma says, breaking Evil X out of his thoughts. "Let's get that cake and get you back."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"W-wait," Evil X stutters. His lungs burn for air, as if they weren't breathing in the freshest air he's had in weeks. "You're done already?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Mhm," Xisuma says with a nod.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"B-But we only just got here," Evil X says. Xisuma tilts his head curiously again, gives him a look that makes Evil X's heart thump hard in his chest. "I-I'm not ready. Not yet. Can't we stay just a little longer?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn't miss the way Xisuma's hand shifts towards the hilt of his sword. Evil X takes a step back, and Xisuma tenses. He shakes his head slowly. "We have to go back, Evil X. You know I can't let you roam around without supervision."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I wouldn't be alone! You'd be here!" Evil X says. He takes another step back. "X-Xisuma, please—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Stop, Evil X," Xisuma says, shaking his head again. He looks pained.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm not ready. I'm not ready. Please." Evil X breathes. "Just a little longer. Please, just a little longer."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Evil X, stop!" Xisuma shouts. Evil X shrinks away from him, takes another step back as Xisuma takes one forward, then another until he finds his back pressed against a wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Not yet, please, not yet," Evil X whimpers. "Please. Xisuma, please..."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"We can come back again another day, Evil X, now come on. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>." Xisuma says, stepping closer, trapping Evil X there. He holds his hands up placatingly, giving Evil X a sympathetic look. "We have to go back."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X shakes his head minutely. He can't see a path of escape. Xisuma comes closer, close enough to touch him, to grab him, and Evil X feels a stab of blind panic. He grabs Xisuma's arm, his right, his sword arm, and holds it tight, tight enough to hurt, ignores Xisuma's pained surprise. He grabs hold of Xisuma's sword with his free hand, yanks it from its scabbard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Evil X!" Xisuma yelps. "Put that down!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No!" Evil X shouts back, pushing his elbow forward to shove Xisuma away. "No! I'm not going back! I'm not ready! I don't want to!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Evil X, please! You've got to calm down!" Xisuma starts, hands still up in surrender. He takes a step closer to Evil X. "You've got to listen to me, Evil X, you've got—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X thrusts the blade, piercing through Xisuma's armor. Xisuma gasps. He glances down between himself and Evil X, down to where Evil X had buried the blade into his sternum. Evil X imagines he sees blood dripping into the dirt. His own blood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"X-Xisuma..." Evil X whispers. He pulls the blade free, and Xisuma's legs give out under his weight. Evil X drops the sword, lunges forward to catch him, but he catches only air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>&gt;Xisuma was slain by Evil Xisuma</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Canary In A Vault</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The consequences of killing Xisuma are not what Evil X was expecting.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter Warnings:<br/>panic attacks, self-harm, discussion of weight, disordered eating, forced institutionalization.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He's all turned around. The corridors are twisting, identical things, a deep network underground that Evil X has no experience navigating, and now he's all turned around in them. It fills him with an anticipatory dread, wandering the empty Vault. TFC is down here, somewhere. He wonders if the man would rat him out to Xisuma the instant he found him. Maybe he'd try to kill him. Or maybe he would stick Evil X into one of those torture rooms of his.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X's heart skips a beat at the thoughts, every one of them adding another crack in the bottle he'd shuttered his anxiety and panic up in. He bites his lip, leans against the wall of the corridor as he tries to keep his breathing under control. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shouldn't have come here. He shouldn't have left the shopping district at all. He should have stayed, waited for Xisuma to come back for him, waited for anyone to come get him and take him back to his prison. It became more and more apparent with every passing day, every passing interaction, that it was where he belonged. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A whimper slips past his teeth, and Evil X chews his lip harder, ignores the taste of copper in his mouth as he does. Who cares if he makes himself bleed a little? He deserves far worse than that. He feels a sob in his throat and throws a hand over his mouth to muffle it, slides down the wall until he's sitting curled up in a ball, shoulders shaking with the effort of silencing himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He needs to get up. Keep moving. Find his way back out of this awful place, before TFC finds him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He continues to sit and sob, his ears ringing and head too fuzzy to tell how loud his wailing echoes in this corridor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wants to leave. He wants to go home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He's not sure he knows where home is anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, what do we have here..."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X tenses, his sobs turning into little whimpers that he tries to hide in his palm. Too late to run now. He'd been caught. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hears TFC's footsteps approaching, but he doesn't dare turn to look. He doesn't dare move. He thinks about the pain, shock, and fear in Xisuma's eyes when he'd run him through with his own sword. He doesn't want to see that look on TFC's face too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>TFC stops a few feet away from him. "Xisuma's little double. Didn't expect to find you here, of all places."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X doesn't respond. The silence between them is heavy on Evil X's chest, but he can't seem to get his lungs to cooperate long enough to form words. He's not sure what he'd say if he could. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You know Xisuma's been in a real state looking for you. Frantic as all hell."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The mention of Xisuma sends his heart racing again. He wonders if TFC has already told Xisuma where he is. Will Xisuma be mad that he ran away?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He's probably more angry that Evil X </span>
  <em>
    <span>killed him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Killed him with his own sword, the one he'd brought to defend himself against Evil X. The one he hadn't even drawn on Evil X. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"W-Was. A-Accident." Evil X manages to stutter out, little more than a whisper on his harsh breaths. "D-Didn't mean. T-To kill him."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There's a sharp bark of laughter from TFC, and the sound of it startles Evil X enough to finally look up and meet TFC's gaze. He finds himself staring into an expression that's some mix of amusement and sympathy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You really screwed the pooch on that one, didn't you?" TFC says. Evil X blinks at him, his fading panic being replaced by a mounting confusion. He hadn't expected such a blasé reaction from TFC. He's not sure whether he should feel annoyance or appreciation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>TFC motions to the wall beside Evil X, and it takes him a moment to realize TFC is asking permission to sit down beside him. Silly thing to do, in his own vault. He could sit anywhere he wanted. Evil X was the trespasser here. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>TFC raises an expectant brow. He was being serious, apparently. Hesitantly, Evil X nods. TFC smiles and comes closer, hunkers down next to Evil X with a little more difficulty than Evil X had getting down here. He lets out a groan as he finally settles on the ground, and idly Evil X wonders if he'll be able to get back up on his own. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Goodness gracious," TFC mutters. Evil X isn't sure what he's referring to, but it makes his gut do a nervous flip-flop nonetheless. His mind conjures a million and one ways that TFC could follow that exclamation, a million and one ways he'll reprimand Evil X, shame him, abuse him. Instead, TFC surprises him for a second time with a gentle hand against his cheek. It was the sort of tenderness he'd come to associate with Xisuma, but no other hermits. He can feel TFC's thumb rub against his scar just under his blind eye, and it makes him blink involuntarily. "You really do look just like him, don't you?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The statement makes Evil X's face flush, and he turns away quickly. His breath feels ragged again. He misses the warmth of TFC's palm on his face. "Sh-Shouldn't I? A-Am. His clone."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>TFC hums noncommittally, and Evil X's stomach does another flip at the sound. He doesn't want to pursue this conversation further right now. It still makes him feel ill when he thinks about telling Grian and Iskall. Luckily, it seemed TFC wasn't interested in pursuing that conversation now either. Instead, the next thing he says is, "Why don't you tell me what happened today, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Evil</span>
  </em>
  <span> Xisuma?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He emphasizes "evil" in a strange way when he says it, almost mockingly, and Evil X does his best to ignore how close it felt to talking about his identity.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"U-Um. 'S-'Suma. Said. He said." Evil X pauses, takes a deep breath. He hates how his voice shakes, how he can't stop stuttering through his words. He curls in on himself, squeezes his eyes shut and takes another deep breath. He feels a hand on his shoulder, the touch as gentle as before, and he can't help but let out a soft whimper at the feeling. He hates how terrified he feels of TFC, how much power the man held over him right now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Most of all, he hated waiting. Waiting for the moment whatever friendly facade TFC was putting on would be pulled away—because that's all it could be, was a facade. Why would he show any genuine kindness to Evil X? The last time they had spoken, he was still just Xisuma. Whatever goodwill TFC held towards Xisuma wasn't his own anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Evil Xisuma?" TFC prompts, giving Evil X's shoulder a squeeze as he does. "C'mon, kid, breathe."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"W-We went. To the sh-shopping district." Evil X starts. "And he s-said. Time. Time to go. Back. I didn't. Didn't want to. An-And I. Panicked."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>TFC squeezes his shoulder again, and another whimper works its way up Evil X's throat. Uncomfortable silence stretches between the two of them. He isn't sure if TFC is waiting for him to continue, or if he's thinking of what to say in response. Either way, it makes Evil X feel tense. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Are you scared of me, kid?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The question makes his breath catch in his throat. How could he answer anything other than yes? Of course he was. Wasn't it obvious? Why was TFC making him say it, too?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Evil Xisuma?" TFC asks gently. There isn't a trace of impatience in his voice when he speaks, but Evil X can't help a frightened gasp at the words. He lets it back out, slow and shaky, and nods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh, really?" TFC snorts, sounding as amused as before. Evil X feels like he's being toyed with by some predator before it finally strikes the killing blow. He's half-tempted to do it himself. His fingers wrap around his pinky and ever so gently, he begins pulling on it. "Why is that? I'm not gonna rat you out to Xisuma, you know."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X furrows his brow. What reason would he have not to tell Xisuma where he was? He thinks of those torture rooms he'd passed. He digs his nails into his pinky when he tugs on it this time. It makes him wince. He thinks he might have drawn blood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Doesn't that hurt?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls his nails across his pinky again and nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hey, knock that off."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels a hand on his and jumps, tries to pull away, but TFC keeps a firm grip on him. His voice is just as firm when he says, "C'mon, let go."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He obeys, releasing his pinky and digging his fingers into the knee of his pant leg instead. He expects TFC to let go of his hand, but instead the man pulls it into his lap. Evil X blinks and turns to glance at TFC inquisitively. He gives a tentative tug on his hand, but TFC still doesn't let go of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>TFC levels him with a knowing look. "I'm not going to hurt you, either. Is that what you're afraid of?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>TFC gives him a rueful smile. "You're safe here, kid. Nothing's gonna hurt you on my watch. Not even you."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X swallows against a lump in his throat and turns his gaze back to his lap. His heart doesn't thump as hard against his ribs. He curls his fingers around TFC's hand, and nearly cries out when he feels TFC's fingers squeeze back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So, you panicked," TFC says. "Then what?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"...I'm sure you saw for yourself," Evil X says quietly. "I killed him."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I did see that," TFC says. "and that's the part I'm confused about. You're nothing more than skin and bones, kid. How'd you manage to overpower Xisuma?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X winces. He knew he must not look very good to an outside observer, but it still makes him nauseous to have his appearance, his weight, commented upon. He should eat. He really doesn't want to eat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"He... had a sword... Didn't want to fight... Didn't even draw it on me..." Evil X says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"A sword?" TFC laughs. Evil X glances at him again, furrowing his brows. TFC seemed to be taking everything he said in stride. He doesn't understand that. "A stiff breeze would knock you over, and he brought a sword?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X can't help a small snort at TFC's words. When he thinks about it like that, it does almost seem funny. "Guess that was pretty stupid..."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It was completely boneheaded is what it was!" TFC says. "I guess we know which of you got all the brains."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X snorts again. "Not me... Wouldn't have done half the things I've done if I did..."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh, c'mon now," TFC says. "We all do stupid things on occasion."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Not as often as I do..." Evil X says. He frowns and tugs on his pant leg. "I should have just let Xisuma take me back..."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Do you want to go back?" TFC asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X shrinks in on himself. "No... But I have to... I'm too dangerous..."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Now who told you that?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X furrows his brows again. "No one. I killed Mumbo. I'm sure you—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Saw for myself. Yeah. Yeah, I did." TFC says. "Couple dozen times, too, if I remember correctly."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Twenty-eight times," Evil X says with a grimace. TFC whistles like he's impressed, and it makes Evil X cringe even harder. "I could have kept going. Iskall stopped me. If he didn't..."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>TFC hums thoughtfully at that. "What would you do now?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What do you mean?" Evil X asks, glancing at TFC.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"If I handed you a sword right now, what would you do?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X grips his pant leg tighter. "I..."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Would you kill me?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No..." Evil X mumbles, shaking his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Go finish what you started with Mumbo?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No." Evil X says, more firmly this time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Maybe take a few other hermits out on your way there?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No!" Evil X finally shouts, pulling his hand free of TFC's grip and scooting away from him. "No, I wouldn't! I wouldn't do that!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glares at TFC, who stares back, calm and patient. Evil X grits his teeth. "I don't want to hurt anyone. Not again."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighs and looks back down at his lap, whatever fight he'd managed to conjure up disappearing as his shoulders slump again. "...It doesn't matter if I want to hurt anyone or not. I didn't want to hurt Xisuma, but I still did."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X feels a hand on his shoulder and flinches, curls in on himself. He moves to grab his pinky again, but TFC's grip on his shoulder tightens and he stops himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What do you want?" TFC asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I..." Evil X starts. There's a hundred things he wants, things he can't seem to have. There's only one in particular that seems to stand out. "I don't want to be scared anymore."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels TFC squeeze his shoulder again, more out of comfort than warning this time. He hears TFC cluck his tongue disapprovingly and it makes him flinch again, makes his skin crawl, but he does his best to ignore it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"C'mon, kid," TFC says in lieu of comfort. "Let's get you something to eat. You must be starving."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Evil X nods, although he's sure there's nothing in this vault he'll be able to keep down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>__</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They talk on their way to the vault's mess hall. Not about how slow Evil X moves or the shaking of his limbs, nor about the healthy distance he keeps between himself and TFC. They talk about simpler things. Easier things. Safer things. TFC's farms, the rooms he still has planned for his vault, his shops. He coaxes some quiet advice out of Evil X on the efficiency of the farms, some ideas for the rooms he has yet to build, some comments about the shops. It's enough to take his mind off of his anxiety until TFC is sitting him down in front of a bowl of stew, and it all comes flooding back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He picks up the spoon and takes a sip, ignores the way his stomach roils as he swallows it down. He feels TFC pat his back encouragingly and takes another hesitant sip. It doesn't sit on his stomach any better than the first.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"...When are you going to tell Xisuma I'm here?" he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That depends," TFC says, squeezing Evil X's shoulder as he does. Evil X feels himself leaning into the touch this time. It doesn't ease his anxiety entirely, but it brings him some slight peace to feel the comfort that TFC offers him. He feels nearly as starved for it as he does for food. He stirs his spoon in the bowl of stew listlessly, and waits for TFC to continue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hears a rustling from behind him, and the next thing he knows TFC is setting a potion bottle on the table in front of him. He recognizes the smell of it, although he can't quite place why.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Drink this whenever you're ready, kid," TFC says, giving him another pat on the shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X blinks. His curiosity wins out and he pulls the bottle closer, watches the swirling gray-silver of the liquid within it, and it strikes him where he knows the smell from. He's smelled it before, held in Xisuma's arms on the floor of an obsidian box. It's weakness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wonders when TFC retrieved the potion. Maybe he had it prepared before he’d even found Evil X alone in that corridor. Evil X isn’t sure if he feels insulted by it or relieved. Maybe both.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X blinks at the potion as the swirls of silver settle into a gentle, lazy spiral. He can feel TFC's eyes burning in the back of his head. He should finish his stew. He doesn't want to finish his stew.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lifts the bottle to his lips and tips it up, drinks until he's swallowed every last drop. He sets the empty bottle back down. His head already feels hazy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm ready."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>__</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sound of the jukebox softly playing in its corner wakes him. His head still feels fuzzy, his memories like a foggy dream. He remembers TFC escorting him out of the mess hall. He remembers dragging his feet, his limbs heavy and uncooperative. He remembers TFC catching him when he could no longer keep himself standing, mumbling something about how he hadn't expected the potion to affect Evil X so quickly. He hadn't accounted for all of Evil X's weight loss when he'd brewed it, apparently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He remembers feeling safe held in TFC's arms outside the vault, the evening sun casting a warm glow on the half-constructed Sahara nearby. Or maybe it was Xisuma's arms he was being held in. Was it both? The disc in the jukebox ends, leaving only the ticking of the clock behind and Evil X's own quiet breaths. He opens his eyes to familiar obsidian. He hears something shift across the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You're awake," Xisuma's voice calls quietly. Evil X turns his head and blinks blearily at him, his vision still swimming with the waning effects of the potion. Xisuma wrings his hands together, his eyes cast down at the ground. He has no sword at his belt now. His helmet sits on the ground beside him. "How're you feeling?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X takes a deep breath and pushes his elbow underneath his side, lifting himself off the mattress until he's sitting upright. He sways a bit, but with every passing second he feels more in control of his movements than before. "'m okay..."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma lets out a sigh, nodding. "Good. That's good."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"...'m sorry," Evil X says. "I... I didn't mean... It... was an accident. I'm sorry."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Evil X..." Xisuma starts, and Evil X braces himself. He knows Xisuma must be mad. He'd probably lost a lot of trust from the other hermits for his failure. That was Evil X's fault. Instead of pushing forward into some lecture, Xisuma steps away from the wall, straight toward Evil X. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He has no time to react. Before he's fully processed what Xisuma is doing his arms are around Evil X's shoulders, squeezing him in a tight embrace. Evil X blinks as his mind catches up to his situation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm glad you're okay, Evil X," Xisuma says, his fingers clenched in the fabric of Evil X's shirt for dear life, like he had no plans of letting go any time soon. His voice is higher than usual, wavering slightly like... like he's holding back tears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X blinks again and slowly brings his arms up to return the hug. "'Suma... Are... Are you okay?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I thought you were gone!" Xisuma says, his grip on Evil X only getting tighter. "I thought I'd lost you, that you were alone who knows where, feeling who knows what. I was—I was so scared, Evil X! I was scared."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X feels a pang in his heart. This wasn't what he'd expected from Xisuma. He thought for sure Xisuma would hate him after the stunt he'd pulled. He didn't think he would be crying on Evil X's shoulder. He didn't think Xisuma had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>afraid</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He doesn't know what to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"...I'm sorry."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, no don't apologize. This was my fault." Xisuma says. "I shouldn't have... shouldn't have expected you to be ready for that. I just thought..."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Xisuma pulls away and glances around at the obsidian walls, his eyes rimmed red, and watery with tears. "It's... it's not right. This. All of this. None of it is. I... I don't know what to do."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma often found himself in the role of the hermits' leader. It came with the territory of having such extensive admin abilities. When he was still Xisuma, the responsibilities that came with that fell on Evil X's shoulders too. If he concentrates he can almost remember what that weight felt like. He wonders what the final straw on Xisuma's back will be. Perhaps it was already broken. Some nagging part of his mind whispers that it was all his fault.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"...Me either," He says quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xisuma lets out a sad, breathy laugh. He pulls Evil X into another hug, face buried against his shoulder, and for once Evil X finds himself the one offering Xisuma comfort rather than the other way around. He rubs small circles into Xisuma's back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I still need to get you that cake," Xisuma says, voice muffled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"...Don't worry about it," Evil X says. "I don't need it."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>__</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He's only been back in the box for two days when Grian and Iskall next visit. He's laying on his back, staring at the ceiling when he hears the door open and blinks when he turns to see the two Architechs entering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You're back," he says, surprised. He sits up as Iskall closes the door behind himself, tries not to flinch at the sound of the latch clicking. He flexes his foot, thinks about anything other than glass and blood and redstone buried under his skin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yep," Grian says, giving Evil X a soft smile. "We thought we'd come see how you were doing after the other day. You uh... really gave everyone quite the scare."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X casts his eyes down, and quietly says, "It was an accident."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels a hand on his shoulder and jumps, feels his heart skip a beat as it's quickly pulled away again. He glances up to see Iskall giving him a sheepish, apologetic look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"'s okay," he says. "Sorry."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room falls into an awkward silence, and Evil X finds himself wishing the two would leave. It's not that he didn't appreciate the company, but it seemed like nothing good ever came of the three of them being in the same room together. Nothing had gone wrong yet, but that didn't mean it wouldn't soon, and it was always inevitably his own fault. It was just a matter of time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead of leaving, though, Iskall slowly approaches again, sitting down beside Evil X, a comfortable distance between the two of them. Grian sits on his other side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You know no one is mad at you, right?" Grian says. Evil X glances at Iskall again, who nods in agreement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I guess," he says. He feels Grian bump his shoulder and turns to him next, blinking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Seriously, Evil X. We're your friends, alright?" Grian says. "We're just glad you're okay."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X furrows his brow at that. It never seemed to get any easier hearing hermits who previously hated him claim to be his friend. He so desperately wanted it to be true. He wasn't sure he could let himself believe it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why do you want to be my friend?" Evil X says quietly. "After everything I've done..."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hears Iskall flipping open his notebook beside him and glances back at him again, watches him scribbling something down on the pages. He turns the notebook to face Evil X. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You aren't who we thought you were. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X scowls and turns back to his lap. "I'm Evil X. Not Xisuma. Not anymore. You know that, right?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Of course we do," Grian says. "You're Evil X, but you're not </span>
  <em>
    <span>Evil</span>
  </em>
  <span> X. And you deserve friends as much as anyone else does. I'm happy to be one of them. If you want that."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evil X nods minutely. He can hear the smile in Grian's voice when he says, "Well that settles it, then. We're friends."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grian bumps their shoulders together again and Evil X snorts. "Alright. Friends."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"We've brought something else for you, by the way," Grian says. Evil X turns to give Grian a curious look, feels a tap on his shoulder from the other side and turns instead to Iskall, who's holding a folded piece of paper out to him. "Mumbo said you wrote him again. He wanted us to bring you this."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hesitantly, Evil X takes the paper from Iskall, holds it delicately in his hands. He recalls the question he'd posed for Mumbo, the last time he'd wrote to him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Do you really think I don't deserve this?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He's almost afraid to find out the answer. Carefully, he unfolds the paper, takes in Mumbo's messy script on the page as he reads:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Evil X,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes. Really. You aren't a monster. Not like me.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>For what it's worth, I meant it when I said I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. You didn't deserve any of it. You still don't.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Mumbo</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'd like to give a quick shout out to all my commenters, especially the regulars who show up almost every chapter with something to say. Ya'll really make the effort worthwhile, and your words mean so much to me. &lt;3 Thanks for reading, and thanks for commenting!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Pen Pals</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Evil X socializes more, to good and bad effect.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter Warnings:<br/>feelings of worthlessness, disordered eating, fainting.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Mumbo, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Don't be stupid. What makes you any more of a monster than me? You were influenced by that sun. Don't try to deny it. Everyone's told me so. But I hurt you because I could. Because I wanted to.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I hurt Xisuma too. Surely you heard about that. What about Iskall? What about everything before this season? So tell me again how you're the monster here. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Let's face it. Only one of us has a chance of ever getting out of these stupid boxes. And it's not me. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Evil Xisuma </em>
</p><p>__</p><p>Evil X sits beside the jukebox most days, his collection of music discs and papers in various states of crumpled strewn around him haphazardly. Xisuma disapproves of his mess, loudly and repeatedly, but Evil X has learned very well how to tune his complaints out just as he's learned to tune out the faint ticking of the clock he can barely make out under the music. Sitting by the jukebox has its advantages and disadvantages. </p><p>It's been three days since he sent his letter to Mumbo. Grian and Iskall haven't come to see him since they'd brought Mumbo's previous letter to him. He wonders why it's taking so long for Mumbo to respond. He bounces his leg anxiously as he does. </p><p>He'd been angry when he wrote it. He'd sat on Mumbo's words long enough that they turned rotten in his mouth. That was probably his first mistake.</p><p>Evil X shakes his head, and tries to shake that line of thinking out with it. He glances down at the notebook in his lap, a messy design for a farm scrawled across the page. He thinks about TFC's farms when he wants to take his mind off of other things. He's not sure if what he's come up with is actually an improvement or not. He wasn't sure about the dozen or so other designs he'd ripped out of his notebook and added to his mess. It's certainly the best he's come up with so far. </p><p>Xisuma arrives later that afternoon, and Evil X thrusts the page at him demanding he give it to TFC before he can say a word about the self-sustaining tornado of trash by the jukebox.</p><p>__</p><p>If he's not designing farms he's doodling. Doodling and doodling and doodling and doodling and doodling and—</p><p>__</p><p>Xisuma brings him a letter, and he tears into it eagerly. He's only mildly disappointed to find it's from TFC.</p><p>
  <em> Hey Kid, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Your farm works like a charm. Wish I would have come up with it myself. Got anything else for me to try? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> TinFoilChef </em>
</p><p>Evil X reads the letter, then reads it again, a warm sort of feeling pervading his chest. He grabs his notebook and flips through the pages of doodles until he finds another farm design, tears the page out so quickly he nearly rips it in half, and offers it to Xisuma, face flushed in embarrassment.</p><p>"Will you give this to TFC for me?"</p><p>__</p><p>The next letter Xisuma brings him is from Mumbo. He wishes it had been a reply from TFC again instead. He swallows back a lump in his throat and reads it.</p><p>
  <em> Evil X, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I don't get that. I mean, it's true. That sun... It did... something. But everyone tells me I'm still me. If I'm still me, then doesn't that mean what I did was still me? Everything I put you and Iskall and Grian through, that was me, wasn't it? Otherwise how can I still be me now? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I'm not so confident I have a chance of getting out of here myself. I don't know that I'd want it. What if I hurt someone again? If I was capable of it once, surely I would be capable of it again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> To be quite frankly honest with you, I think I deserved far worse than what you did to me. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mumbo </em>
</p><p>Mumbo's letter makes Evil X's chest feel tight, not at all like the warmth he felt at TFC's words. He folds the letter up and tucks it between the pages of his notebook, but try as he might, he can't take his mind off of it.</p><p>__</p><p>
  <em> Mumbo, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Even if it was you that did those things. It wasn't all you. What you REALLY don't get is that people like you, Mumbo. They WANT you to get better. They want to give you a second chance.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Nobody likes me. Nobody wants to give me a second chance. They'd all be quite content if I just disappeared. Even— </em>
</p><p>A wet teardrop falls onto the page, smudging some of the words. "Shit."</p><p>Evil X sniffs and rubs at his eyes, trying to wipe away the rest of them before they can fall and ruin the page any further. He doesn't want to have to rewrite the whole letter. He's already wasted enough paper as it is.</p><p><em> Even Xisuma. It'd be better for </em> <strike><em> him </em></strike> <em> everyone if I just disappeared. This box is the closest they'll get to that.  </em></p><p>
  <em> And shut up with this ‘what you deserve’ nonsense. You didn't ask for any of that to happen. I didn't have any right to do what I did. So just shut up. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Evil Xisuma </em>
</p><p>__</p><p>He's curled up in bed facing away from the door when he hears it click open. He recognizes Xisuma's footsteps across the room, the sound of his boots and armor. He feels the bed beside him sink with Xisuma's weight as he sits. Feels a gentle hand on his shoulder.</p><p>"Evil X?" Xisuma says softly. Evil X lets out a huff in response. "You know... if there's anything you wanted to talk about, you can. I'm here for you."</p><p>Evil X stares at the obsidian wall, wonders why Xisuma would bring this up now. Maybe Mumbo told Xisuma the things he was saying in his letters. Maybe Xisuma read it himself. The thought makes his chest feel tight the same way reading Mumbo's letters does. There's a hundred things he wants to tell Xisuma, but instead of any of them he says, "I know."</p><p>Xisuma doesn't push the topic.</p><p>__</p><p>
  <em> Kid, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Two for two on those farms. Good job. Want to shoot for three? I got something in mind, but I figured I'd let the expert take a look before I build anything. Tell me what you think. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> TinFoilChef </em>
</p><p>__</p><p>Evil X is contemplating the design TFC had sent him with his last letter when Xisuma arrives. He acknowledges him with a grunt, but doesn't look up.</p><p>"That's no way to greet a guest," Xisuma says as he steps across the room for the food chest at the end of Evil X's bed, opening the lid to sort through the contents. He can feel Xisuma's judgment at how full it still is from across the room, and he feels a prick of annoyance at it.</p><p>"Hi," Evil X says flatly.</p><p>"In a mood today, are we?"</p><p>"What are you going to do about it?" Evil X says with a sneer. "Imprison me in an obsidian box? Oh, wait."</p><p>Xisuma sighs. "If you'd like to be alone, Evil X, I can go."</p><p>Evil X bounces his leg anxiously at the suggestion. He <em> doesn't </em> want Xisuma to leave. He doesn't know why Xisuma would even bring that up. He growls and says, "Fine. Go then. I don't care."</p><p>Xisuma is silent for a moment before gently closing the lid of the chest with a quiet creak. "Alright."</p><p>Evil X feels a pang in his chest at the word. He doesn't know why he's being so irritable, so rude. He wants to take his words back, but he can't seem to get anymore out of his mouth. He can't bring himself to beg Xisuma to stay. </p><p>Xisuma stands and heads back for the door, his footsteps quiet beneath the lilting music, coming to a halt at the door. Evil X stares resolutely down at TFC's letter. "...I'll see you tomorrow, Evil X."</p><p>He hears the door open, hears Xisuma step out of it, hears the quiet click as it closes again. He lets out a breath. </p><p>__</p><p>The next day when Xisuma comes Evil X says nothing in lieu of the apology he desperately wants to give. His mouth still seems incapable of forming words. He hopes Xisuma won't take it as a sign that he should go again. </p><p>Instead of questioning him, yelling at him, abandoning him, Xisuma sits beside him. "...Feeling any better today?"</p><p>Evil X shrugs. He wasn't. In some ways he felt worse. He can't vocalize it any more than he can an apology. </p><p>"...I've brought you something," Xisuma says. "Another letter from Mumbo."</p><p>Hesitantly, Evil X glances at him, at the folded paper Xisuma holds. He reaches out and takes it, unfolds it to find a single line, no greeting, no sign off.</p><p>
  <em> You didn't ask for it either.  </em>
</p><p>__</p><p>The words of Mumbo's letter haunt Evil X's mind in every unoccupied moment, so he busies himself as much as he can with his farm designs and his doodles. When he runs out of ideas for redstone he composes music. He writes lyrics. He folds the discarded pages into crude origami flowers and paper footballs until he inevitably loses interest and allows Xisuma to throw them away. He has enough material to take his mind off the letter for only a handful of days. Then he runs out of empty pages in his notebook. The remaining pages in the book offer him not even one spare centimeter of space, and he throws it across the room in frustration.</p><p>When Xisuma arrives that afternoon, he arrives to Evil X huddled close to the jukebox, bouncing his knee and pulling on his pinkie, scowling at nothing in particular. </p><p>"I need a new notebook," he says. He doesn't look up to see what flavor of disapproval Xisuma wears on his face. He knows he's being rude. He doesn't care. </p><p>Whatever lecture he expects doesn't come, however, and his attention is finally drawn when he hears the crinkling of pages, sees Xisuma picking up the notebook he'd left laying on the floor. Evil X shoots to his feet, ignores how dizzy it makes him feel. "Don't look at that!"</p><p>"I'm not looking!" Xisuma says, and as if to prove it he holds the notebook out to Evil X, his eyes staring at a random corner of the box, away from Evil X and the notebook. Evil X hesitates for only a second before snatching the notebook away, holding it protectively against his chest.</p><p>"...I need a new one," he repeats. His thumb brushes along the corner of the pages, a silent apology for his mistreatment of the book.</p><p>"Used up all the pages, then?" Xisuma says, finally turning his gaze back to Evil X. Evil X nods. "I'll get you another one."</p><p>"...Thank you," Evil X says. </p><p>"Have you had anything to eat today?" Xisuma asks, and Evil X grimaces.</p><p>"...No," he says. "Not yet."</p><p>__</p><p>
  <em> You didn't ask for it either. </em>
</p><p>Evil X taps his pen against the blank page of his new notebook. It's pristine, unmarred by his shaky penmanship, his vile words and ideas. He's almost tempted to give it back to Xisuma. It deserved better than him. Most things did. But it's been nearly a week since Mumbo's last letter, and a feeling of anxious guilt gnaws at his belly alongside his hunger. It nearly feels overtaken by it, whatever appetite he might have conjured up disappearing beneath it entirely. So he sits by the jukebox and he taps his pen against the page and he thinks of what to write back.</p><p>
  <em> Mumbo, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You're right. I didn't.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I'm sorry. For everything. Not just killing you.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Evil Xisuma </em>
</p><p>__</p><p>Evil X writes to TFC, and TFC writes back.</p><p>Mumbo doesn't write back.</p><p>Scar bakes him another cake and sends him letter along with it this time, an impressive sketch of Jellie that Evil X hangs on the wall beside his clock included with the note. He glares at Xisuma when he admires it for too long, and whatever comment Xisuma may have had about it never finds its way out of his mouth. He writes Scar back, a heartfelt thank you that he crumples up and replaces with a simple thanks and a sketch of the cake. It's one of the few things around he has to draw. </p><p>Mumbo doesn't write back.</p><p>Joe writes him a letter, a meandering thing that Evil X has to read three times to pull any meaningful information from. Joe was teaching Iskall sign language now that he couldn't speak with his voice. Doc was designing Grian prosthetic arms. Evil X idly doodles a prosthetic design of his own and sends it along with his response on a whim. He has nothing of interest to tell Joe otherwise.</p><p>Mumbo doesn't write back.</p><p>Doc sends him his doodle back, and Evil X is almost insulted until he realizes Doc wants a more detailed design, that he's impressed with what Evil X has come up with so far. It's almost too much pressure. He draws up a marginally more readable blueprint and writes a short apology for how little of an improvement he's made that he tosses aside and replaces with a page that just says sorry on it. </p><p>Mumbo doesn't write back.</p><p>Evil X bounces his leg anxiously and puts his pen to paper, a dozen pages deep into his new notebook now, and he writes. </p><p>
  <em> Mumbo, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What's the weather like over there? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Evil Xisuma </em>
</p><p>__</p><p>He expected a reply to his latest letter even less than he did the first one, but the very next day Xisuma arrives with a response.</p><p>
  <em> Evil X, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Well, it's a bit chilly, given where I am, but the sky is usually clear, at least from what I can tell through my window. The cloudy days are the worst. I barely want to get out of bed. I imagine you probably don't want to either, on those days. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What's the weather like for you? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mumbo </em>
</p><p>Evil X squints at the page. Then he says, "Mumbo has a window."</p><p>"That he does," Xisuma agrees from where he kneels, organizing the untouched food in Evil X's chest as he tended to busy himself with when he visited these days.</p><p>"Why don't I have a window?"</p><p>"Do you want a window?"</p><p>Evil X gives Xisuma a flat look and doesn't speak until Xisuma looks up to appreciate the full brunt of Evil X's moody gaze. "Of course I want a window. Would you want to look at nothing but obsidian all day?"</p><p>Xisuma's gaze softens, and so does Evil X's. He hadn't intended to make Xisuma feel guilty.</p><p>"Alright," Xisuma says. "I'll see what we can do."</p><p>"Maybe a skylight," Evil X suggests, an attempt to lighten the heavy mood he'd unintentionally created. Xisuma's eyes crinkle with a smile.</p><p>"Now that would be nice."</p><p>"Or a bay window to sit in while I write."</p><p>"Don't push it, Evil X."</p><p>"A bay window <em> and </em> a skylight!"</p><p>Xisuma laughs, and for once Evil X laughs with him.</p><p>__</p><p>
  <em> Mumbo, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I only just got a window, I don't know what the weather is usually like. Thanks for that, by the way. Xisuma felt so guilty he built me a skylight. I tried to swing a bay window too, but no luck. Now I can at least confirm the sky is still blue.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It's always hard to get out of bed, blue sky or not. I've been writing more. It helps, sometimes.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Evil Xisuma </em>
</p><p>__</p><p>
  <em> Evil X, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Fair enough. You're right. It is always hard. It doesn't feel like there's much reason to. Grian and Iskall visit me every day, but it's not as if I have anything new to tell them. I think it makes them worry. It's a little difficult to care, sometimes.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Plus I feel like I can hardly sleep. I don't know if it's just me, but— </em>
</p><p>There's a smudge on the page here, as if Mumbo hesitated to finish his thought. It bleeds through the back, and the paper is thin and fuzzy as if Mumbo spent an awful lot of time rubbing the pen nib there, debating whether to continue or not. Evil X certainly knows what that feels like. The line proceeding it isn't crossed out, and there's plenty more words to follow it, so he supposes in the end Mumbo decided it was worth sharing, whatever it is.</p><p>
  <em> —ever since we've come back there's been this buzzing in my ears. I hesitate to say it sounds like redstone, it's much more constant, much more annoying. Sometimes I can tune it out, but with so little to occupy myself with sometimes it's all I can focus on. Do you have anything like that? I haven't had the guts to ask Grian and Iskall. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mumbo </em>
</p><p>__</p><p>
  <em> Mumbo, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> No, I don't, but I understand what you mean. I have a clock. Can't stand the sound of it. Had a bit of an episode over it, in fact. It helps to drown the sound out with something else. Ask Grian for a jukebox. I bet it'll help. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Evil Xisuma </em>
</p><p><em> P.S. I like the disc </em> mall. </p><p>__</p><p>Mumbo writes to Evil X, Evil X writes to Mumbo. For some reason it's easy to be candid with Mumbo, even easier than with Xisuma. Perhaps because he was the one person who already knew what Evil X had been put through. He wonders if Mumbo feels the same way. Grian and Iskall knew something of his time in the red sun world, but not nearly as much as Evil X did.</p><p>Mumbo likes <em> mall </em> too, but he likes <em> cat </em> more. Evil X tells him that's fine, he's allowed to have wrong opinions. Mumbo tells him exactly where he can shove <em> mall </em>.</p><p>"What are you smiling about over there?" Xisuma asks, and Evil X nearly rips the letter in half in his haste to put it away. </p><p>He scowls. "None of your business."</p><p>Something strange flickers in Xisuma's eyes, but before Evil X has a chance to analyze it Xisuma turns away with a shrug. "Alright, suit yourself."</p><p>Evil X sighs and pulls out his notebook to pen a response.</p><p>__</p><p>Evil X makes a joke one day that he's sure will get a laugh from Mumbo. They've joked about their troubles sleeping, their restlessness, their anxiety and depression and panic. This time he makes a joke about his disordered eating. Mumbo has implied he has his own share of issues with food. He's sure he'll get some banter for his wit.</p><p>Instead he gets another single line letter, no greeting, no sign off.</p><p>
  <em> I'll eat if you do. </em>
</p><p>Evil X's face flushes hot and this time when he tears the letter in half it's entirely intentional.</p><p>__</p><p>He doesn't eat, and this time it's much more deliberate. It's childish, and idiotic, and self-sabotaging, but Evil X doesn't care. Some part of him feels betrayed by Mumbo. He was supposed to be on Evil X's side, but here he was giving him stupid ultimatums. Another part feels betrayed by himself. He shouldn't have ever placed any trust in Mumbo. He was the whole reason Evil X had troubles eating in the first place.</p><p>Either way, Mumbo certainly had no right to make demands of him like that. So he doesn't eat, because Mumbo had said he would eat if Evil X did. He's punishing Mumbo, he tells himself. The gnawing emptiness in his belly and the shaking of his hands would be worth it. The increasingly worried glances Xisuma shoots him when he visits would be worth it.</p><p>He's surprised when a letter comes for him. He's even more surprised when he opens it to find it's not for him after all.</p><p><em> Dear Pablo Punchwood (and Wilson), </em>it reads, and Evil X nearly stops himself there. Mumbo deserves his privacy no matter how angry Evil X is with him, but he doesn't recognize the names the letter is addressed to, and his curiosity wins out.</p><p>
  <em> I think I messed up. Again. I should really learn when to shut my big mouth. I just want to help. Like you helped me. Like Grian and Iskall help me. But I can't help but feel I'm making things worse.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Evil X— </em>
</p><p>He stops himself here, face flushed red at the mention of his own name. It feels worse to snoop in Mumbo's business knowing Mumbo was talking about him with whoever this Pablo character is. Instead of reading further, he folds the letter in half, roughly tears a page from his own book. In a large, sloppy scrawl he writes <em> Who's Pablo? </em> across the paper and sends them both off with Xisuma.</p><p>He's stomach growls at him, but he can't bring himself to eat.</p><p>__</p><p>
  <em> Evil X, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> This is a little embarrassing. I can't believe I mixed up my letters. I'm so sorry. Whatever you read just forget it, okay? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Pablo helped me one day, not too long ago. It's hard to tell how much of it was real. Maybe none of it. I think it might have been a dream. But it felt extremely real. We talked. About everything that happened. Everything that I did. All of it. </em>
</p><p><em> I feel I don't say it enough, but I'm sorry for everything I put you through. I don't know what I can do to make up for it. Probably nothing. I'm sorry for my last letter to you, too. I shouldn't have sent that. </em> <em><strike> The last thing you need is pressure to take care of me, when I'm the one who</strike> </em></p><p>The last unfinished line of the paragraph was scribbled out, but even beneath the ink and scuffs, Evil X could read what Mumbo had started to write. He tries not to dwell on it, or the strange twisting of his guts.</p><p>
  <em> Writing to Pablo helps me organize my thoughts. Even if he'll probably never read my letters. I know it sounds a bit silly. Maybe a little crazy. But, well, I'm nothing if not crazy, right? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I hope this letter finds you well, Evil X. If you want me to stop writing you, I understand. Sorry again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mumbo </em>
</p><p>__</p><p>Evil X sits leaned against his bed under his skylight, a dozen crumpled up papers littered around him, and a blank page on the notebook before him. <em> Cat </em> plays on the jukebox, and he bounces his leg to the tune as he thinks.</p><p>His feelings are a maelstrom that he just can't seem to weather. He doesn't know what to write. He doesn't know how to respond. He's started and stopped and started over too many times to count. It's like writing his first apology all over again. He doesn't want to waste any more paper. He takes a deep breath. How to start? What to say? It's all too difficult right now. He thinks about Mumbo's letter again, and a sudden whim grabs hold of him. He puts the pen nib against the paper and writes.</p><p>
  <em> Dear Pablo Punchwood </em>
</p><p>He hesitates for a moment before adding<em> (and Wilson) </em> to his greeting, and wonders if he shouldn't have asked Mumbo about who this Wilson was too. </p><p>
  <em> You don't know me. Or maybe you do. At least a little, I guess. I know Mumbo's written about me. I don't know what he's told you. Probably all bad things. Probably all true.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mumbo said he writes to you to organize his thoughts. I could use a little of that too. I don't even know where to start. The red sun world was hardly the beginning of my problems. It might just be where the worst of them came from, though. </em>
</p><p>Evil X pauses here, considers how much he wants to say. This Pablo, if he was even real, if he would ever even see this letter, was a stranger. He doesn't know if he could trust him.</p><p>Then again, maybe that's exactly the reason he could.</p><p>
  <em> I don't know what you know about reapers. But I'm one. If Mumbo told you what he did, that's why he was able to—do what he did so much. I don't really die when I die. That's why I always healed, in that world. Physically healed, anyway. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I'm in an obsidian box too. I imagine you must know about those. I'm no less dangerous than Mumbo is. Maybe more dangerous. He was like a man possessed, when we were there. I'm just me. Everything I do.  </em>
</p><p>What a pity party he's created. He can't imagine this is a great first impression he's sending. From the jumble of thoughts tangled in his head, he can't seem to pull any one in particular. He has no idea what else to say. Instead of telling Pablo anything more, he ends the letter with the one question he's been asking himself since the day he first came home.</p><p>
  <em> How do I get better? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Evil Xisuma </em>
</p><p>__</p><p>Evil X doesn't send the letter to Pablo. He's not even sure how it would reach him. He doesn't know where he is. He doesn't even know if he's real. The more he thinks on it, the sillier he feels. He crumples the letter up and tosses it out with the rest of his discarded drafts. He doesn't write Mumbo back.</p><p>His head feels fuzzy, noisy and loud, yet at the same time muffled with pressure. He spends more time laying in bed than usual. He ignores the pile of letters the hermits send to him. He ignores the food Xisuma brings him. He's so anxious, so restless, he feels like he can't breathe. He wants to leave this goddamn box. He knows he can't. He stands and begins to pace the small cage. The alternative was to punch a wall. He thinks Xisuma would be proud that he chose the less destructive of the two.</p><p>He feels lightheaded and he ignores it as much as he ignores everything else. He's not sure why he's doing this. Punishing himself. It had to be that he was punishing himself, because there was no one else his actions were hurting. Maybe Xisuma. Maybe Mumbo. But mostly himself. Why?</p><p>His stomach growls weakly and he puts a hand against his belly, presses down on it as if to silence it. He'd feel better if he ate. Scar baked him a cake. Why didn't he eat that? It was so much easier to eat than Xisuma's stew. It made him feel better. Why didn't he want to feel better? Did he deserve to feel better?</p><p>His vision goes fuzzy on the edges and he tries to blink it away unsuccessfully. He could write. Talking to the hermits made him feel nice. It made him feel less isolated. Why wouldn't he just pick up their letters and read them? Why wouldn't he just pick up his notebook and write them? </p><p>It's a cacophony in his head, his belly, his arms and legs. He feels so numb, like he isn't really here. Like he's detached from himself. He recognizes the dull hunger for food, for friendship, for anything, but it doesn't feel like it belongs to him anymore. Strange. He closes his eyes tight against a dizzy spell that doesn't belong to him, either. He feels weightless. Or like he's falling through a dream.</p><p>Some part of him recognizes that that isn't a good thing.</p><p>__</p><p>Evil X awakens with a jerk on something softer than the obsidian he'd just passed out on. The air is thicker than he's used to, peaty and humid, nothing like the stale air in the box. And it's loud here—not like it was loud in his head, but a comforting sort of loudness, the chirp and chatter of crickets, of life. </p><p>When Evil X opens his eyes, he opens them to a twilit forest.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that's Act 2! Thanks for reading! But now I have some bad news to deliver. No update next Tuesday. Unfortunately, this is the end of the chapters I currently have finished. Between work, and life, and all the thousand and one other projects I'm picking away at, I honestly have no idea when you can expect another chapter. I'll try to make it sooner than, say, six months from now? ^-^;; Once I'm finished with the next story in the vEX series, I'll definitely be coming back to work on this, I promise.</p><p>If you're so inclined, you can follow me on tumblr @sprucewoodcottage for more Hermitcraft, including occasional snippets from projects I'm working on. And my ask box is always open to chat!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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